These Dreams
by karmacanary
Summary: **Set after the S3 Finale** When Emma gets trapped in the dream world, Killian willingly goes under a sleeping curse to find her. As they navigate the dreamscape together, will they be doomed to finding and losing each other in all sorts of lifetimes? Or will they be able to get clues to their friends in Storybrooke to help them back to reality? Rated M for steam/dark themes.
1. Reunion

An insistent pounding finally brought Killian around, and he blinked his eyes a few moments, trying hazily to remember where he was. He'd dreamed of the Jolly again, and it was almost as though he could still feel the deck shifting beneath his feet. He glanced, bleary-eyed at the clock on the nightstand as the pounding resumed.

"Hook! Killian! You in there?"

David's voice brought him instantly awake, so he rolled himself out of bed and in two long strides, wrenched the door open.

"What is it?" he demanded. "What's happened?"

David drew back, turning his head away with a pained look. "Could you put some clothes on, please?"

"Sorry mate, but you came looking for _me_." Killian stepped back to the bed, wrapping the sheet around his lower half.

"Yeah, but I don't need to see quite so much of you." David turned back around cautiously. "Don't pirates have to be ready for anything?"

"Who says I'm not?"

"Like that?"

"Well I suppose it depends on what you hope to be ready for." He cracked a smile, and it went over like a lead balloon. He had a terrible habit of forgetting that David was Emma's father sometimes.

"What's this all about, mate?"

"Get some clothes on - we're going down to the dock. I'll wait for you in the truck."

Killian reached out, grabbing David's arm. "Is Emma all right?"

David gave him a reassuring smile. "Emma's fine. She sent me to get you. Now get dressed." David started through the doorway.

"What's going on?" Killian called after him.

"It's a surprise!"

###

They pulled into the cannery parking lot, and David turned off the ignition. "We're here."

"The cannery?" Killian looked around. "All I see is big, ugly building. What's all the fuss?"

David smiled a secret smile. "Come on." He crossed the parking lot with Killian following behind, and as they rounded the building, Killian made a face.

"Don't tell me you hired us out as cleaning crew. It certainly smells like they can use it." He wrinkled his nose. "I don't know why you have to be so bloody secreti-" He stopped dead in his tracks, his jaw hanging slack. Emma stood on the dock, smiling ear-to-ear.

"Look who's back," she called out.

And there, moored on the dock, bobbing gently on the water, was the Jolly Roger.

"How? I don't understand? Where...?" he was at a loss for words.

"Nobody knows," David answered. "We woke up this morning, and there she was. No one was aboard, and she appears to be intact."

"I'll be damned," Killian said under his breath - then he gave an exuberant laugh. "My ship! She found her way back to me!"

"It appears so," David said, clapping him on the back. "Why don't you go give her the once-over?"

He hadn't even finished his sentence before Killian was walking toward her, with Emma intercepting him on the way. He picked her up, swinging her around, laughing again and planting a loud, smacking kiss on her.

"Hey!" She called out, good-naturedly. "Watch the spine!"

"Sorry, love." He released her slowly, letting her slide down his body. Emma held his eyes a moment before she stepped back, a little embarrassed with David standing there.

"Don't you have a ship to check out?"

Killian nodded. "Yes I do. I do indeed." There was a wealth of satisfaction in his voice and he moved toward the gangplank. He started to climb up, but paused to turn back to Emma. "They didn't find anyone aboard? Anyone at all?"

"Nope. Whoever they were, they either vacated before it crossed the portal, or they're here in Storybrooke somewhere. No one's reported any strangers in town, though." Emma's forehead creased and she motioned David over.

"We're going to canvass the town - it's entirely possible that someone doesn't want us to know they're here."

"Good idea," David agreed. "But you'd think if they were going to cause trouble, they'd have done it already."

"Just who did you trade the Jolly Roger to, anyway?" Emma asked. "You didn't say."

"I was busy." He gave her a smile and the gleam in his eyes made her feel entirely too warm.

"Who?" She repeated.

"I didn't get his name. Rumor had it there was a sea captain in the port town of Tyverna who was looking for a vessel made from enchanted wood. He also happened to have come into a stash of magic beans. Our interests were aligned, so I made the trade."

"You traded your ship to an anonymous sea captain?"

"I didn't much care who he was, Swan. I needed to get to you."

She felt warm again, and her eyes shifted away to look at the ship. "Was he questioning you about Storybrooke or anything?"

Killian shook his head. "No, not at all. I didn't stay long and I can hardly say I knew him well, but he seemed a decent sort."

"Let's get down to the cabin," David suggested. "If you've got some paper, I'll take down a description and Emma and I can get to work."

###

The sun was setting when Emma climbed down the ladder. Killian reclined on the bed, booted feet crossed at the ankles, arms folded behind his head, eyes closed and a smile on his lips.

"You are the picture of a contented man," she remarked, stepping into the cabin.

He opened his eyes, grinning at her like a boy who'd just been given an enormous lollipop. "I am indeed, Swan. Care to join me?" He patted the bed next to him, and the grin turned sly. Emma shook her head ruefully.

"You are entirely too adorable when you smile like that."

"I know. Why do you think I do it?" He patted the bed again.

Emma bit her lip, hanging back. "I just came by to make sure you hadn't had a visit from our phantom captain."

"No one's come aboard," he replied. "Well, except Henry, that is. I think he was nearly as thrilled to see the old girl as I was. Made me promise him more sailing lessons."

"He'll like that," Emma agreed. "We had no luck in town. If anyone came with the ship, they're nowhere to be found. We organized a search party and went door-to-door while Robin and the Merry Men checked out the woods. Nothing."

"Perhaps an accident befell him shortly after he opened the portal." He swung his legs off the bed, getting to his feet and walking over to her.

"Maybe," Emma said. "We'll just have to keep our eyes open, I guess." She looked around the cabin. "You're really at home here."

"'Course I am, love." He stepped closer. "And you being here just completes the picture."

His words hung in the air between them, and when he leaned in, she met him halfway. The kiss was soft and gentle, and he cradled her face in his hand as his lips played over hers.

"I can barely believe it," he whispered against her lips. "Both you and the Jolly in a span of days. I keep taking shots of rum to be sure I'm not dreaming."

"You and your rum," she smiled, kissing him again.

"You're a good excuse," he grinned. "God knows you've driven me to drink from the day we met."

"You're no picnic, either," she replied, pulling back. "And I need to get home. It's taco night and Henry's waiting. You want to join us?"

He looked a little torn, and she reached out, putting a hand against his lips. "It's okay - I get it. You don't want to leave her just yet."

"If it's all the same to you - I promise I'll make it up to you tomorrow." He gave her a lopsided smile.

"Don't worry about it," she reassured.

"No, I insist." He smiled, reaching out to twirl a lock of her hair about his finger. "And you just gave me an idea of how I'm going to do it."

Her eyes met his, locked, and she flushed.

"Well...I gotta go." She backed up toward the ladder. "See ya tomorrow."

"Tomorrow, Swan." He gave her a look that warmed her insides again, his eyes lingering on her as she climbed back up to the deck. Then he turned in a slow circle, wrapping his arms around himself tightly.

He was a contented man. A very, very contented man.


	2. Picnic

"A picnic? Really?" Emma looked at Killian with raised eyebrows.

"That surprises you somehow, Swan?" Killian scooped the picnic basket off the kitchen counter and motioned toward the door.

"Yeah," she answered. "I just didn't figure you for the picnic type."

He gave her a devilish grin. "You've no idea the surprises I have in store for you, love."

Emma rolled her eyes. "I'm supposed to be working…"

"Your father has kindly agreed to cover your shift," he interrupted.

"And Henry – "

"Is visiting Regina this afternoon. She could use the cheering up." He opened the door and looked at her expectantly.

"But what about –"

"Your mother is taking the baby for a stroll and then she's meeting up with Belle to go shopping for baby clothes. Face it, Swan….you've got nothing to do. Absolutely nothing, other than having a picnic with a devilishly handsome pirate." He lifted a brow, daring her to refute him.

"All right," Emma said as she grabbed her jacket off the back of the chair. "But don't think I don't know that you arranged all this."

"I spiked your guns quite nicely, if I do say so myself." He sounded so positively smug, Emma couldn't help but smile as she walked through the door. Once they reached the street, she paused to look around.

"So…walking or driving?" she asked.

"You want to teach me how to drive?" The corner of his mouth lifted.

"Not likely. A gearshift isn't exactly compatible with a hook, I'm afraid."

"I could manage, I assure you. I am amazingly dexterous."

Emma gave him her trademark smirk. "I'll bet." She glanced around again. "Well…it's a gorgeous day outside. I could go for a walk in the sunshine."

He gave her a slight, but mocking bow. "As the lady wishes."

They strolled through town towards the docks at a leisurely pace, with Killian proffering a wave at the occasional gawker. Emma's eyes slid sideways to look at him as she walked.

"Guess it's going to take some getting used to," she said.

"What's that, Swan?" He waved at Dr. Hopper, who'd stopped in the middle of the street, causing Pongo to lurch on his leash a bit.

"You and me….together."

"We're only going for a stroll," Killian said reasonably. "The good doctor looks quite gobsmacked."

"You did threaten to dissect him once," Emma reminded.

"Oh yes. That I did." Killian smiled. "Well, I'm all for letting bygones be bygones and all that."

"I'm just saying it's going to take some getting used to for some people."

"What?"

"Us." She looked away.

"So you consider us to be an "us?" He said it casually, but the brightness in his eyes belied his tone.

"We're out here walking together with a picnic basket," she pointed out. "I think that's pretty much an endorsement. I'm not known for my picnicking ways."

"In this town there could bloody well be anything in this basket. For all they know, we've got a magical exploding rock in here that's going to wipe the place off the map again."

"Good point." She smiled, putting her hands in her back pockets.

"You didn't answer my question, Swan."

Emma let out a gust of air. "I know."

They walked in silence for a short time before Emma spoke again. "So exactly where are we going? And how long is this going to take, anyway?"

"Our destination is the beautiful seaside view from the deck of the Jolly Roger, and how long it takes is entirely up to you. And my highly irresistible charm." He gave her a crooked grin and quirked that eyebrow up, and Emma felt something tighten in the region of her stomach. Or maybe lower.

"Killian…"

He stopped on the dock, turning to face her. "Give over, Swan. Why are you suddenly so afraid of being alone with me?"

She looked affronted. "I'm not afraid of you."

"That's not what I said and you know it. Why are you trying to squirm out of this?"

"I do not squirm." She deadpanned.

He held her eyes, leaning in entirely too close. "Not yet you don't." He pulled back slightly and she very nearly went with him. "I know you too well, Swan. You're uncomfortable with this and I want to know why."

Emma glanced around, but they were entirely alone. She ran a nervous hand through her hair. "It's just….it's…._this_. You. Doing….stuff."

"Stuff?" There went that eyebrow again.

"Picnics. You're being all…boyfriendy."

"Boyfriendy?" Now both eyebrows were up.

"Romantic. You're trying to…I don't know….pamper me or something."

He stepped in closer, reaching up to push a stray lock of hair back that had blown across her face. "Let me tell you something, love. Pirates are - by their very nature- romantic sorts. We can't help it. There's nothing more romantic and adventurous than sailing the open sea. We tend to look for that in the women we fall for. And as for pampering you….well, I think we've finally uncovered the real issue. You don't like it when you're the center of attention. You don't like to be pampered."

"It's just not what I'm used to." She shoved her hands deeper in her pockets. "I spent most of my life completely under the radar. I'm not used to anybody trying to make me a priority."

He gave her a half-smile that tugged at her insides again. "Swan, you've been a priority for so damned long, I can't even remember when you weren't. And now that we're on the cusp of potentially being considered an 'us,' well…" he reached out, tilting her chin up so that she was meeting his eyes. "You have to throw a man some rope, love. Let me pamper you a bit." He gave her a devastatingly flirtatious grin. "I promise…you'll like it."

Emma glanced down at the basket on his arm. "Am I smelling Granny's fried chicken?"

"You are indeed."

"Okay, let's get to pampering. I'm starving."

They walked up the gangplank, and Killian rolled two barrels over to a chest that was set up just below the wheel deck. He set the basket down on the deck, and pulled out a checkered tablecloth, draping it over the chest. Plates and utensils came next, along with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"Wine?" Emma said with a smile. "You certainly thought of everything."

"The wine is for you. I'll stick to rum." He pulled out his flask, splashing some into his wineglass. " But I'll drink it a bit more elegantly, since I have such lovely company."

Emma poured herself a glass of wine, then lifted it up, clinking her glass to his. "To picnics," she said smartly.

"To us," he replied, and something in his eyes made her feel that tightening inside again.

###

They had just finished the last of the pie when the rain started, chasing them off the deck and down into the cabin, laughing and shaking the water off their arms and out of their hair.

"Sheesh!" Emma complained. "A little warning would have been nice. One minute it's sunny and the next minute we're drowning."

Killian reached over, pulling the comforter off the bed and settling it around her shoulders. "Here you go, Swan. You can wrap up in this. Feel free to take off those wet garments, if you'd like."

She gave him a look. "Don't tell me you planned this, too."

He reached for another cloth, folded on top of a nearby chest. "Can't take credit for this, love. This was an entirely fortuitous circumstance."

"My clothes aren't that wet, so thanks, but no thanks." She finished rubbing her hair with the blanket, handing it back to him.

"So what now, Swan? I have a few ideas but I get the feeling you'd find them too…boyfriendy."

A smile tugged at her lips despite her best efforts to rein it in. She glanced over at the window. "I really should be getting back."

He dropped the cloth, running his fingers through his hair, trying to set it to rights. Instead, it fell across his forehead and he looked so damn handsome, she forgot to breathe for a minute. From the look in his eyes, he knew it, too.

"Give me an hour," he said, stepping closer.

Emma took a cautious step back. "I can't…"

"One hour, Swan."

"Killian…" she was shaking her head, trying to frame her response.

"Ten minutes?" He moved closer again, and Emma realized she backed herself into the wall.

"_Ten minutes_?" she asked. "Is that really all you need?"

He looked good and offended. "Not for that. I'd assumed any sort of lovemaking was off the table if you weren't even willing to give an hour – though truthfully, I wouldn't settle for that with you anyway, love." He stepped in once more, his chest pressing lightly against hers. "Ten minutes is just long enough to properly kiss you, so let's start with that, shall we?"

Before she could object, he slid an arm around her, pulling her in and cupping her face as his lips moved on hers, slowly and insistently, coaxing a response that wasn't long in coming. Emma's arms slid up around his neck as she parted her lips for him, deepening the kiss and welcoming the warm surge of his tongue into her mouth. He kissed her with an expertise that had her fingers curling into his hair, their breath mingling every time they came up for air and then delved back in again. Killian's hand slid down, curving around her buttocks and pulling her more tightly against him as he pressed his body into hers.

The slight moan that pulled from deep in her throat startled her back to reality. She pulled back, taking in a deep, shuddering breath.

"Hold on."

Killian's mouth moved to her neck, sliding up to point just under her ear. "Don't stop now, love…"

His breath made her shiver, and she fought to keep herself from pushing him backward until they were both on the bed.

"Killian…" she breathed.

He let out a sigh, reluctantly leaving her neck and resting his forehead lightly against hers.

"Sorry," he murmured. "You make it entirely too easy to get carried away."

"No, it's…it's all right," she said, more than a little out of breath. "I don't want you to think I wasn't interested."

"You might be able to keep your thoughts under guard, Swan," he said, giving her a short, soft kiss. "But your body is an open book. So tell me why we're stopping…?"

Emma moved to the side, breaking free of the pull he had on her. She crossed her arms self-consciously.

"I just…" she looked around, trying to find the right words."I think we need to take it slow, that's all."

He studied her a moment, as if trying to find some words of his own. "All right then."

"Really?"

"I can be incredibly patient, love. You've no idea."

"You don't seem like the patient kind."

He reached out, twirling a lock of hair around his finger. "I've waited a long time for this, Emma. I'll follow your lead. Anytime you say stop, we stop."

Emma nodded. "Thank you."

"No thanks necessary. The trick is, love, to make you not _want_ to stop." He gave her a saucy grin, then walked over to the trunk at the foot of the bed. "Now….let me see if I still have it in here…."

He lifted the lid, rummaging around until he found what he was looking for.

"Ah, there it is." He pulled hard, dislodging it from under a pile of various belongings, and it came free with a jolt, sending objects tumbling out of the chest and rolling and scattering across the floor.

"An umbrella?" Emma said, looking surprised. She took the frilly blue parasol, twirling it in her hand. "I wouldn't have thought that blue was your color."

Killian dropped to one knee, reaching for some of the items that had fallen.

"I happen to look amazing in blue," he said over his shoulder. "But it isn't mine. It was Cora's."

Emma dropped it like it had burned her.

"Yuck!"

"It's just a parasol, love. Cora enjoyed pretty things. When we traveled to Storybrooke together, she left it on the ship. You might as well put it to good use."

Emma reached down for it gingerly. "Yeah, I guess. It is raining pretty hard, still." She glanced over to the windows and her eye caught something gleaming, just under the table.

"Hold on," she said, dropping to her knees. "Something rolled under the table here." She crawled underneath, staring at the item curiously.

"What a weird ball," she said. "What is that carved on it?"

She moved toward the ball, its dark surface somehow iridescent, almost swirling. The symbol on it making her tilt her head curiously.

"It's like a…a weird 'u' with a…teardrop attached or something." She reached her hand out.

"Careful there, Swan," he cautioned, turning to look at her. "Don't bang your head on the – " He cut off abruptly as Emma's hand closed around the ball.

And then she vanished, right before his eyes.


	3. Sphere

"Now let's go over this once more," David said, bending over to look under the table. "She was on her hands and knees..."

"She was crawling under the bloody table to get some something that had rolled free from the chest." Killian replied, pacing back and forth.

"And then she just...vanished?"

"Yes!" Killian shoved his hand through his hair in exasperation. "One minute she was there, and then - just gone." He leaned back against the table heavily.

"What was the ball, anyway" David asked. "Was it magical? Cursed?"

"I don't bloody know!"

"This is your ship."

"Well in case it slipped your notice, I haven't had my bloody ship in months!" Killian pointed out. "Whatever this 'ball' was, it certainly wasn't mine."

"Could someone have deliberately set a trap?" David asked.

"Buried under a load of miscellany at the bottom of a chest?" Killian shook his head. "It could possibly have been something of Cora's," he offered.

"Cora's!"

"The parasol was hers. She'd traveled with me to Storybrooke," Killian reminded him. "It's possible she left other personal effects in the chest. I haven't had cause to open that one. Most of its contents were odds and ends, things I wouldn't need on a day-to-day basis." He folded his arms across his chest. "The other possibility is that it came from whoever brought my ship to Storybrooke."

David passed a hand over his face, his fingers drumming against the table. "We have no way of knowing about the phantom captain, but if the ball was something of Cora's, we need to assume it was probably magic."

"It made her bloody disappear - I would say that pretty much guarantees it!" Killian said with exasperation. "Now what are we going to do about it?"

"We need help," David agreed. "Let's find Regina."

###

"Are you here to pick up Henry?" Regina asked, after opening the door. "I told Snow I'd be dropping him off later."

"No, it's not about Henry," David said. "It's about Emma. Can we come in?"

"Emma?" She opened the door wider, gesturing them inside. "What's going on with Emma?"

"Is something wrong?" Henry asked, coming up behind them. "Where's my Mom?"

David reached out, putting a hand on Henry's shoulder. "Henry, your mother is missing."

"Missing!" Henry's eyes widened.

"Now, as far as we know, she's all right," David continued reassuringly. "We just need to figure out where she's gone."

"You don't know where she's gone?" Regina looked confused.

"She found a magic 'ball' in an old trunk in my cabin," Hook informed. "A trunk that apparently still held a few of your mother's things. It rolled across the floor, and when she picked it up, she vanished."

Regina's brow crinkled. "A ball."

"That's right."

"Like a baseball? Beach ball?"

Hook shook his head. "No, this was small, and dark. She said it had something written on it - a letter."

"A letter of the alphabet?" David clarified.

"The letter 'u'. And a teardrop." Killian rubbed his beard. "That's all she said, and then she was gone."

Regina crossed her arms, thinking. "The letter 'u'? You're sure?"

"That's what she said."

Regina shook her head. "I don't know. I can't think of anything where the letter 'u' would be of interest. It's no one's initial...I can't think of any spells that would require it, either."

"Maybe we should try writing it." Henry suggested. "It was on a ball, right? She could have been looking at it sideways or upside-down or something."

"Good idea, Henry!" David glanced around. "Regina, do you have paper anywhere?"

"Follow me," she said, leading them into her study. She reached into a drawer, pulling out a sheet of paper and a pen. David picked up the pen, drawing a letter 'u' in the center. He turned the paper a quarter turn.

"It could kind of look like a 'c' on its side. Upside now, it's an 'n'. Either of those mean anything to you?" he asked Regina.

"'C' could easily be Cora, but that's a bit of a stretch - it really doesn't look like a 'c'." She replied, staring down at the paper.

"What about the teardrop?" Henry asked. "Where was it? Next to it?"

"Alas, I didn't see the ball myself," Killian replied, shaking his head. He rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "She said it was attached. The teardrop was 'attached' to the 'u'."

David drew a teardrop shape sticking out from one side, then repeated the letter and attached the teardop on top. Regina looked at each version and shook her head.

"Nothing," she said, apologetically.

Then David attached the teardrop to one of the downstrokes:

**µ**

Henry slapped his hand down on the paper. "Wait!" he called out excitedly. "Wait here - I'll be right back!"

He pounded up the stairs, returning a moment later with a leather-bound encyclopedia. "We were studying this in school!" he said. "In history. I think it's part of the Greek alphabet!"

"Greek?" David questioned.

"It's as good a theory as anything," Killian said. "But what does it mean?"

Henry laid the book on the table next to the paper and poked a finger down onto the page. "There! See? It's the Greek letter "Mu". The lowercase version."

"Mu?" Killain parroted.

"M. It's the letter 'M'," Henry said. "Does that mean anything?"

"I don't know," David said. "Regina?" He turned to look at her, and Regina was as white as a sheet, staring at the paper with wide eyes.

"Regina?" he repeated warily.

She took a breath, wetting her lips nervously.

"We need to see Gold. Now."

###

"A ball with the Greek letter 'M' upon it," Gold said, his hands spread on the glass case in front of him.

"Not a ball," Regina clarified. "A sphere. Am I right?"

Gold's eyes narrowed. "That seems a distinct possibility."

"Do you mind letting the rest of us in on your little secret?" David asked, a little tersely. "We need to find Emma."

Gold's eyes shifted to Henry. "Regina," he said. "Did you know they have a new flavor of ice cream down at Granny's? It's all the rage."

"Really?" she answered brightly, her eyes flicking over to Henry, as well. "Maybe we should check it - "

"Forget it," Henry said, interrupting. "I know what you're trying to do. Whatever happened, I need to know."

Gold let out a breath and nodded. "Where Miss Swan has gone is nowhere that we can get to."

"What?" Hook's voice thundered. "There has to be a way. She bloody well went _somewhere!_"

"Indeed she did," Gold continued. "But without the Morpheus Sphere, she's quite on her own."

"A Morpheus Sphere?" David asked. "What the hell is _that_?"

"Morpheus was renowned in the world of magic - his name was associated with the likes of Merlin, and with no false modesty, yours truly. He was one of the greats."

"Was?"

"Alas, he went quite mad from it. Deep magic isn't for the faint of heart, and he was unable to manage it. He became fixated on dreams, in particular, and his study of them, and of the dream world, ultimately brought about his end."

"Dreams? Why would he study dreams?" Killian asked.

"Ah, you see dreams are a particularly strong source of magic," Gold replied. "Seers use them for prophecy, and their influence is keen and often life-altering. In the dreamscape, magic is an unlimited resource, not bound by natural law or even circumstance. Morpheus was determined to find a way to keep the portal to the dreamscape open, utilizing its power and all the magic within."

"What happened to him? You said it brought about his end," Henry reminded.

"Of a sort," Gold said. "He ended up trapped, unable to hold corporeal form for long within our world, and existing mainly in the dreamscape. One of the legacies he left behind was the Morpheus Sphere, which Miss Swan found, quite unwittingly. The sphere, when touched by bare hands, will pull you into the dreamscape."

"She's trapped in a land of dreams?" Killian said, disbelief showing clearly on his face.

"That's right," Gold confirmed.

"Can we get her back? Reverse it somehow?" David asked.

"That's the tricky part," Regina replied. "Not only did Emma disappear, but so did the sphere. According to legend - and that's what I'm going on here, I've never even seen a Morpheus Sphere - once triggered, the sphere could be anywhere in the world, disguised as the most ordinary of objects. Sort of a fail-safe, to keep anyone from getting the subject back or going after them."

"So we_ can_ get her back," Killian said, latching onto Regina's words.

"Theoretically," Regina said, "If you want to search every inch of the entire world."

"The whole world?" Henry asked. "Or just Storybrooke?"

David's face lit up. "He's right - Storybrooke is sort of an entity unto itself. Would that mean the sphere is confined by its boundaries?"

Gold nodded slowly. "Very likely."

"So the sphere is in Storybrooke, and we have to find out where," David reiterated. "You said it could disguise itself - does that mean it changes shape?"

"Not exactly," Gold said. "Unfortunately, like Regina, I've never seen one personally. But if myth and legend are to be believed, it will keep its general form, but do its best to blend in with its new surroundings."

"So we're looking for a ball," Henry said. "We just go door-to-door looking for balls."

"Or rocks, or stones in a riverbed, or pine cones, or lumps of coal or apples on a tree," Regina pointed out. "The spherical shape is incredibly common not just in nature but in a thousand everyday things. It could be a paperweight or a children's toy for all we know."

"It's a place to start," David pointed out.

"And what happens to Emma while we're looking?" Killian asked, his jaw tightening. "It could take years, turning over every stone and searching every house and business in Storybrooke."

"She won't be changing, in a physical sense," Gold said. "But in the dreamscape, anything can happen to her."

"Will she know she's there?" David asked. "Will she be aware that she's dreaming?"

"It depends," Gold said, with a slight shrug. "If she's pulled into someone else's dream, then yes, she'll be aware she's dreaming. If the dream is one of her own, that would be doubtful. She'll be tossed around the dreamscape doing both, until we find her."

"And if she's hurt, or in pain, or...killed?" Killian's voice was harsh.

"If she's killed, she simply comes back to life in the next dream scenario," Gold reassured. "But as for injury...she will feel pain, both physical and emotional, if warranted."

"All the more reason to get started," David said, heading for the door. "I'll start organizing search parties. Hook? You're with me."

"No, I'm not, mate." Killian's voice was implacable.

"This will got a lot faster and be a lot more thorough if we're all working together," David said, stopping to turn back to Killian. "I need you on this. Let's go."

"I'm afraid I can't join you."

"And why is that?"

"Because I'm going after Emma. She's not going to be in there facing God-knows-what all alone. I'm going after her." Killian pulled his shoulders back, his hand squeezing into a fist.

"You can't go after her," Regina reminded him. "We don't have the sphere."

"I know," he replied, staring at Regina intently. "But you do know how to wield a sleeping curse."


	4. Theories and Proposals

"Absolutely out of the question," David said. "No way."

"I wasn't asking for your permission, mate." Killian arched a brow.

Regina let out a breath. "Emma is in the dreamscape. That's not the same thing as a sleeping curse."

"The sleeping curse sends you to a burning room - surely that's part of this 'dreamscape'." Killian pointed out.

"Yes," Regina replied. "But it's not like she'll be waiting in the wings. You would have no way of finding her. The dreamscape is as big as the universe, full of the dreams of everyone living. It would be impossible to find her. It's vast."

Gold steepled his fingers, touching his chin thoughtfully. "The pirate may be onto something," he said. "If someone could make contact with Emma within the dreamscape, she may very well be able to tell us where she is."

David's brow knit. "You mean, where the sphere is?"

"Precisely." Gold stretched his hands out across the glass case, considering for a moment. "Within the dreamscape, her subconscious mind is still aware of its surroundings. This will bleed into the dreams she navigates, possibly in very subtle ways. A smell, for instance, or the sounds of traffic. She may have the clues we need to find her."

"Well, if anyone's going in there, it should be me," David volunteered. "I wouldn't even need the curse. You could just drug me into a deeper sleep - like Mulan did with Snow when she was trying to talk to Henry."

"I realize you have a penchant for finding those you love," Gold said with a half-smile, "But in this case, I think the good captain has the best chance of success."

"Based on what?"

Gold reached under the counter, producing a small velveteen bag with a drawstring. He pulled it open, sliding the contents out into his hand and placing it gently on the counter.

"Based on this," he said.

"A compass?" David looked skeptical.

"That's not just any compass," Killian said. "That's an enchanted compass."

"And the very compass that brought the two of you together on a shared mission, if memory serves," Gold added. "Making it a very, very strong talisman for the both of you. You carry this, and it will lead you to Emma."

"How soon can you have the curse ready?" Killian asked Regina.

"It'll take some time," she said, shaking her head. "Several hours at the very least."

"Can I do anything to help speed things along?" he asked, his eyes tight.

"No," Regina said. "Its a tedious process, and there aren't any shortcuts, unfortunately."

Killian gave her a short nod, and when she headed for the door, he moved to follow her. David put a hand on his arm, stopping him.

"Hook."

Killian looked down at the hand, then up at David, but didn't say anything.

"If you go under a sleeping curse..." David stopped, trying to find the best way to phrase what he had to say. "There's only one way that curse can be broken."

Killian looked at him steadily. "I know that, mate."

David bit his lip. "Look, what I'm trying to say is, I don't know if Emma will be able to do that yet."

"She may not be," Killian answered. "But I won't leave her in there alone."

###

The first thing Emma was conscious of after the initial wave of vertigo, was the feel of the carpet beneath her fingers.

Wait - carpet? There was no carpet on the Jolly. She lifted her head to look around and didn't have time to duck before the man walked right into her, shouting a rather colorful curse word. Emma scrambled up to her feet in total confusion.

What the _hell? _Where was she? She looked slowly around at what appeared to be an office. Rows of cubicles were on either side of her, and a Starbuck's cup lay overturned on the floor at her feet.

"I don't understand," she said under her breath, her eyes wide. She looked over at the man and realized with a start who it was.

"Robin!" She reached out, grabbing his arm and he gave her a dirty look as he pulled his arm away.

"Stop!" he snarled. "You've already made me spill one, and now look at my shirt!"

Emma glanced down at his white shirt, now partially covered in coffee.

"What were you doing just laying on the floor like that?" he demanded. She started to sputter an answer. "Nevermind," he snapped, holding up a hand. "I have to go." He took off down the aisle, stopping to speak with David, who sat two cubicles away before the two of them walked into an office at the end and shut the door. Emma stood helplessly in the aisle, not entirely sure what to do. A few moments later, David emerged from the office, wearing Robin's stained shirt.

Ruby - with her hair up and a pair of glasses perched on her nose - stood partially up to look over her cubicle wall at her. "You'd better get to your desk before Ms. Mills gets here," she cautioned. "She's due any second."

"Regina?"

The coworker gave her an alarmed look at the mention of Regina's first name.

"Oh - okay..." Emma glanced around, totally at a loss, until her eyes landed on the nameplate outside the next cubicle.

EMMA SWAN

A frown creased her brow. "Where the hell am I?" she mumbled, walking slowly toward the cube and cautiously taking a seat. A few seconds later, all conversation in the office stopped so abruptly, she thought she'd gone deaf for a second. The door opened and in walked Regina, striding down the aisle in a determined way, a no-nonsense look upon her face. Everyone seemed absurdly busy all around her but no one seemed to get a second of attention from her. She opened the door to the office at the end of the hallway and stepped inside.

Emma turned back to look at her desk, still not even close to sure what was happening to her. She'd been on the Jolly with Killian, then she grabbed that weird ball and now she was here.

Was the ball like a magic bean? A portal of some kind?

No. She shook her head. A portal would take her away from everyone. Regina was here, and so were other people from Storybrooke. No Killian, though - at least not that she could see.

She put her head in her hand. What in the hell was happening? She didn't go back in time - Robin had certainly never worked in an office. Speaking of the bandit, he emerged, a bit breathless and somewhat frantic-eyed (but wearing a clean shirt), from Regina's office and raced over to his cubicle, typing furiously in the computer.

An instant message bubble popped up on Emma's screen, and she read its contents with incredulous eyes.

THE WITCH IS ON HER BROOM!

A split-second later, Regina emerged from her office, walking brusquely into an office at the opposite end of the floor, with Robin trailing after her. They closed the door, and before Emma could get out of her cube to try to get over and get a word with David, Regina and Robin emerged, talking in hushed tones as the door to the office behind them flew open with such force, it hit the wall and ricocheted off.

"You poisonous _bitch_!" Leroy stood in the aisle way, gripping a sheaf of papers. He looked more than a little bizarre in a business suit. "You can't fire me! Do you think I don't see what you're doing here?"

"Leroy, don't do it..." Regina warned in a sing-song tone.

"Just because you have no semblance of a life outside of this office, you think that you can treat all of us like your own personal slaves," he fumed.

"Leroy, stop..."

"You know what? I feel sorry for you. Because you know what you're gonna have on your deathbed? Nothing and no one!"

"Uh, excuse me - " Emma stood up at her cubicle, ignoring the stares of all her Storybrooke coworkers. "Sorry to interrupt, but can someone tell me what's going on here?"

Regina's head swung toward her and her voice was heavy with incredulity. "You dare to interrupt? Can you not see I'm in the middle of something, here?"

"Regina - "

Regina's eyebrows popped up nearly into her hairline. "That's a bit informal, don't you think? It's _Miss Mills._ And you're fired."

"You can't fire her!" Leroy shouted.

"Not another word!" Regina cautioned. "If you say one more word, Leroy, I'll have security escort you out and Robin will video it all and post it on that website."

"Youtube," Robin added helpfully.

"Listen, I don't really care about the job - " Emma said.

Regina gave her a slow, scathing look. "You don't care about the _job?_"

"No. I'm just trying to figure out what's going on here."

"Nolan!" Regina called out.

"Yes, Ms. Mills?" David stood up in his cubicle.

"Please help Miss Swan pack her desk and then escort her outside."

David nodded. "Will do."

The phone rang at Robin's desk, interrupting Regina's tirade. He picked it up, said a few words, and replaced it in the cradle. "You're wanted upstairs," he said to Regina.

She gave him a brusque nod. "Come and get me in ten minutes." She looked over at Leroy. "And take out the garbage in the meantime." She walked back to her office with Robin in tow, and closed the door.

Leroy stormed back into his own office, and the rest of the room started buzzing with various conversations.

Emma looked around at everyone like they were nuts, mainly because it felt like they were. Or maybe she was.

"David," she said, when he came over with an empty cardboard box. "Do you remember what you were doing before you were here?"

He nodded. "I used to write ad copy for a pharmaceutical company."

"Come again?"

"And before that, I tried my hand at freelancing, but apparently, only my pet articles were worth printing." He put the box down on Emma's desk. "Better start loading up. If you're still here when she gets back, it'll really get ugly."

Emma looked around the room in total dismay. "And just where the hell am I supposed to go?"

David shrugged. "I could talk to my buddy who's still at the pharma company. It's worth a shot." He grabbed a picture frame and a cup full of pens, and started loading up the box.

###

Emma stepped out onto the sidewalk an hour later, holding a box full of crap she had no memory of accumulating, and wondering how in the everlasting hell she got here. And where was here, anyway? Everyone knew her, but nobody really _knew_ her. And now she was out on the street, wondering what to do next. She wished she'd kept her mouth shut - at least she could have gone through her emails and maybe gotten some clues that way. They took her laptop, of course - it was company property - so that option was off the table.

She set the box down on the edge of the low wall that bordered the stairs up to the building, and reached for her purse. If she could find a phone, maybe she could still pull up emails that way. They couldn't have deleted her off the system yet.

She started to unzip the purse - and since when had she ever carried a purse? - when Regina and Robin walked right past her, deep in some sort of argument. She caught the word "deported" and "marriage", but not much else. It was clear they weren't paying much attention to anything else.

Emma turned to a rather unkempt, bearded homeless man nearby, waving him closer. The man shuffled over with curious eyes.

"Hey - wanna make five bucks? Watch my box for me."

She ran to follow Regina and Robin, disturbing a small flock of pigeons that flew right at them, causing Regina to let out a rather unladylike squawk and fall forward on her stiletto heels right into Robin, who shoved her off rather angrily. She took two teetering steps back before she landed, right on her ass in the middle of the sidewalk.

Robin broke into immediate laughter, startling the birds again until one of them delivered the coup de grace - a giant splatter of feces right on Regina's head. This, of course, only made Robin laugh louder.

"Oh my God," Emma spluttered. "Regina, I'm sorry - I'm just trying - "

Regina had finally managed to push herself to her feet, fuming.

"What in the hell was _that_?" She stepped toward Emma, ignoring Robin as he half-heartedly tried to placate her. "Can you not see we're having a private conversation?"

"About marriage?" Emma said incredulously. "You can't marry him. He's got a wife now."

"What?" Both Regina and Robin shared that word.

"You already have a _wife_?" Regina turned on Robin. "Is that who you were on the phone with earlier?"

"No," he answered. "That was my mother. We're having my Gammy's 90th birthday party."

"Your Gammy?" Emma said. "Your _Gammy_? Since when does Robin Hood have a Gammy?"

"Enough!" Regina shouted. "I have had _enough_ - " she punctuated her word with a shove, and Emma tumbled backward, right into the street.

When the cab hit her and killed her, she was still trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

###

Regina awoke with a start, realizing she'd just drifted off. From the lingering smell of sulphur in the room, she was reasonably sure the curse was nearly done. She pushed herself out of the armchair she'd been dozing in, rubbing her hand across her forehead as she walked over to check on the brew. All that was left was a little crushed crystal and some distillation, and she'd be ready to go.

The remnants of the dream teased at her memory in bits and pieces. She'd been watching that damn movie the other night, and now she was dreaming it. Dreaming of Robin again.

She blinked hard, willing her mind to focus on the task at hand. She didn't have time for maudlin sentimentality.

In her dream, she'd been in an office, and she'd just fired Leroy. And Emma.

Regina's eyes snapped open wide.

###

"What do you mean, you saw Emma?" David asked, his eyes lighting up. "You found the sphere?"

"No. I was dreaming." She moved to sit, setting the beaker on the desk in front of her. They were all gathered in her office.

"Dreaming?" Killian snapped. "You've been sleeping all this time?"

Regina gave him a look. "I dozed off while I was waiting for the curse to finish curing. I haven't been sleeping well lately," she replied defensively. "And here's what else - she didn't understand what was going on. In the dream, I mean. It was like she was totally at sea. She didn't fit with any of the rest of it. She even brought up something about Robin that was true in real life, but not in the context of the dream, right before I pushed her in front of an oncoming taxi."

"_What?_" Henry's voice raised in alarm.

"It's a _dream_, Henry," she reminded him gently. "She won't stay down for long."

"It sounds like Emma's aware that she's not in her world anymore," David said.

"This does support the theory that she's entirely herself, when pulled into someone else's dream agenda," Gold pointed out.

"Did you try to talk to her?" David asked Regina. "What did you tell her?"

"Nothing. In the dream, I was the editor of a book company. My mind didn't put everything together until after I woke up." Regina said.

"You can't work against context in your own dreams," Gold said. "If you should encounter her in her own dreams, you may have to do some convincing," he said to Killian. "I don't know how much she'll absorb of your attempt to communicate, but if she starts becoming more cognizant and aware, it's possible you may move on from her dreams or your dreams and begin sharing your dreamspace together. If you can do that, you may be able to navigate it, after a fashion."

"Will they be able to communicate with us?" David asked. "Like Emma just did with Regina?"

"Possibly," Gold answered. "But I remind you all that this is entirely theoretical. The dreamscape is a vast and shifting plane, governed by laws of magic that are unlike anything we're used to. There's only been one man who's delved into its mysteries, and that endeavor drove him to madness and left him a spectre within our world."

"Enough theorizing," Killian said impatiently. "I'm ready to do this. Let's get on with it."

Regina nodded, gesturing him over to the couch on the far side of her office. As he sat down, she carefully dipped a long needle into the beaker containing the curse before handing it to Gold.

"Remember," Gold said, "The compass will guide you to her. And you need to wear this, as well." He held out his free hand, dangling a chain with a small glass vial on the end.

"What's this?" Killian asked.

"That'll help you control the flames in the burning room," Henry said. "Otherwise you'd never get out of there."

"It may also offer some moderate protection from other dangers, as well," Gold said. "Theoretically, of course."

Killian made a face. "Of course." He laid back on the couch, and extended his hand.

"Are you ready?" Gold asked.

Killian nodded. Then he looked over at Regina, David and Henry. "Watch for a sign. We'll try to send one."

"Good luck," Regina said.

"You can do this," Henry added.

David's eyes locked with Killian's. "Find her," he said. "Bring her back to us."

Killian gave him a solemn nod, and then he reached out and pressed his finger to the needle.


	5. Through

Killian found himself in a place of darkness. This wasn't a normal kind of dark, but something deeper, more sinister somehow. He heard echoes in the distance and did his best to tune them out. Milah's voice, calling to him - and Emma's as well. His brother, Liam, and the sounds he made as Dreamshade took his life... He'd been expecting this - David had briefed him thoroughly - so he made short work of breaking through the floor with a torch from the wall and landing in the burning room below. It took him a few moments to get his bearings. The flames were intense and the heat pricked his skin but didn't burn him.

He pushed up to his feet, shielding his eyes with his arm. From here, he was on his own. He had to find a way out of the burning room and into the dreamscape that was somewhere beyond.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out the compass. It was a struggle to read it in the dim and flickering light. He blinked several times, trying to focus. The needle on the compass swung widely from left to right and back again, not settling at all. Killian shook the compass, then tried tapping the glass.

Damn. It might have been damaged when he fell. He flinched as a large upsurge of flame nearly engulfed him, and he shoved the compass back into his pocket. He turned in a slow circle, trying to get the lay of the room. There were curtains billowing off the walls, and all of them were in flames. The floor was patterned, and he wondered briefly if he ought to try breaking through it.

He began, slowly and methodically to map out the room, walking its entire perimeter, still occasionally checking the compass and still finding its needle swinging to and fro. He reached through the flames, squinting and shying away as he felt for the walls, but they appeared to be solid. The wind that seemed to fan the billowing curtains came from no outward source. He dropped down to his knees and began testing the floor, rapping on it with his hook in an attempt to break through it, but still no luck. An eruption of flame next to him made him instinctively roll to the side to avoid it, ending up on his back. He caught his breath a moment and started to resume his work, but his eyes caught the slightest glimmer of something odd.

The chandelier above him was enormous, and burning, just like the draperies. But as his eye followed the chain that mounted it to the ceiling, he caught the barest glimpse of something at its base.

Light.

There was no mistaking it. A small shaft of light emitting from the hole where the chandelier plugged into the ceiling, indicating quite clearly that there was something beyond it, giving off a glow. He pushed himself up to his feet and fished the compass out of his pocket again, this time holding it straight up and down in front of his face instead of flat and the the needle swung and settled, pointing directly up.

He pocketed the compass again with a satisfied grin, then ran for the nearest set of flaming curtains. He grimaced as he plunged his hands through the flames, grabbing the material and giving it a tug. Once he was satisfied it would hold his weight, he dug in, anchoring himself with his hook and pulling up with his hand, eyes squinting at the flames all around him. Once he'd reached the top of the wall and could go no further, he took but a moment to judge his trajectory. He was a dozen feet above the chandelier at this height, but it was still going to take one hell of an outward leap to get there. He only hoped he'd climbed high enough to offset the pull of gravity as he jumped.

He gathered himself, putting all his weight on his arms as he braced his feet against the wall and pushed off in a mighty leap for the chandelier. He caught the far edge of it, knocking the burning candles to the floor far below, swinging in an arc as he scrambled to get a leg up and over the side of it. Once he'd pulled himself up to a sitting position, he made short work of climbing the center chain, pausing to rest his arms a moment when he reached the top.

Now that he was close, he could feel it - a slight, cooling breeze eeking through the slight opening around the ceiling mount for the fixture. The trick was going to be breaking through without loosing the chandelier and sending him tumbling to the floor below. He studied the situation for a moment, finally deciding that his best option was to break through away from the chandelier.

He reached out as far as his arm could stretch, and slammed his hook into the ceiling, ripping a chunk out that crumbled to the floor. He repeated the action again and again, bringing his hook down, twisting and tearing into the stone and plaster, chipping it away bit by bit. The sweat ran in rivulets down his skin and dripped into his eyes. He paused to run his sleeve across his forehead, panting hard. when he felt something on the top of his head.

What the devil? He looked up, only to get splashed in the face again. Something was dripping from where he'd been gouging, and it ran in a line along the ceiling to where the chain hung, splashing down on him as he worked. He extended his hook, catching a drop on the end of it and bringing it to his lips. To his surprise, it was salty.

Sea water? How in the blazes -

He didn't get a chance to finish that thought as the ceiling burst open, sending a forceful cascade of water and debris slamming into him, ripping him off the chandelier and sweeping him away.

###

"He's under," Regina said, checking his pupils once more before folding his arms across his chest.

"Nothing to do but wait now," David said. He looked over at Gold. "Do you really think he can send us a sign?"

"I can't be sure," Gold said. "But I will say that anyone who underestimates our good captain is usually wrong to do so."

"He'll find her," Henry said, nodding firmly. "I know he will."

"You think that compass will work?" Regina asked Gold.

"It should bring them together," he answered. "What happens from that point is where things get tricky. Anything can happen in the dreamscape."

"I should get you home to bed, Henry," David said. "It's late."

"I'll stay with the captain," Regina offered. "I'm not much on sleep these days, anyway." She turned away from David's sympathetic look, settling herself in a chair across from Hook.

"Can I camp out here with you?" Henry asked. "I can put my sleeping bag on the carpet."

Regina's eyes brightened. "You want to stay over?"

"Sure." He shrugged. "We've still got some catching up to do."

"I'll take you back to get your stuff," David said, guiding Henry toward the door. Gold moved to follow them out, but stopped in the doorway to remind them once more.

"I would suggest that we meet each morning to discuss any dreams we may have had the night before. They could be important."

"Good idea," David agreed. "I'll spread the word through town, as well. Anyone who sees Emma or Hook in a dream needs to pass the information along."

"We should all keep a notebook by our beds, so we can write them down while they're still fresh," Henry suggested.

"We'll stop by the pharmacy on the way back and pick up some notebooks," David agreed. "Regina - we'll be right back."

"Take your time," she answered. "I'll be here."

She watched the door close behind them and settled herself more comfortably in the chair, crossing her legs and looking over at Hook.

"Must be nice - trapped in your own special world with the one you love," she said softly. She put her chin in her hand and sighed.

She missed the shadow that passed the window, but felt its chill all the same.

###

The first thing Killian was aware of as he came around, was the noise. The sound of...insects?...whizzing by, and explosions - incredibly loud and packing such force as to shake the earth beneath him, sending a forceful burst of air and seawater in their wake. Like cannon fire, but much, much closer. He groaned, realizing he was facedown on a beach, and the waves were washing around him. The sound of men - a lot of men - shouting, even screaming, was all around him, a cacophony punctuated by whizzes and booms and sand flying with the force of each explosion.

He pushed himself up groggily, realizing dully that it was daylight, and then he realized he had two hands.

Good God, he had two hands. He stared down at them in wonder for a moment, rocking back to sit on his heels as he held his left hand up in front of his face, flexing and turning it in the light. There, above his first knuckle on his middle finger was the scar from childhood - Liam had caught him with a fishhook when he cast a bit too wide. The memory brought a smile to his lips but it was short-lived. A moment later, someone was grabbing him from the back, by the pack he seemed to be carrying and pulled him to his feet.

"Jones! On your feet! Come on!" a man's voice barked.

He stumbled, falling to his knees again before he pushed himself back up.

"Where are we?" he asked the man.

"Where the hell do you think? Now get up that beach before we end up on the casualty list!" the man shouted, taking off at a run up the beach.

Killian moved to stagger after him - what the hell was in his pack? It weighed a ton. He got two more steps before an enormous explosion split the air, lifting him off his feet and slamming him backwards into the sand, pain ripping through him just before the world went dark.

###

"I think he might be coming around," a voice whispered, somewhere to the left of him.

"Who?" another voice answered.

"Your patient in bed five. The one with that amazing face."

There was a shuffling sound, and Killian struggled to open his eyes. They felt like they had lead weights attached, and his whole body felt heavy and lethargic. Had he bit hit by some strong bit of magic? He did his best to pay attention to what his other senses were telling him. He could hear the whispers of conversation around him, and he could feel the softness of a bed beneath him. His nose picked up something strange - a sharp smell that stung his nostrils.

He tried to move his arms, but they wouldn't budge. He managed to shift his head to the side, then rolled it to the other side. Finally, with a herculean effort, he opened his eyes.

"Well, hello there," a voice said from somewhere out of his range of vision. "Are you finally awake?"

He struggled to find his voice, and it was rough with disuse.

"It appears so." He smacked his lips, running his tongue over his teeth at the unpleasant taste in his mouth.

"Hold on," the voice said. "I'll get you some water."

He closed his eyes again for a moment, dragged back by the effort of consciousness. He felt the press of a cup to his lips, and a helpful arm as it lifted him, holding him up while he drank, and he did so, deeply. The cup was moved away, and a handkerchief pressed to his mouth, dabbing the wetness from his lips and chin. He opened his eyes again slowly, and looked up gratefully.

"Swan!"

The word was pulled from his lips and her eyes met his with a start of surprise. She was dressed in a short, white dress and matching pointed hat, her hair pulled up into a severe bun beneath it, but he'd know that face anywhere.

"Do I know you, soldier?" She looked at him curiously.

He recovered quickly. "No...I...I heard someone say your name - earlier."

"You can call me Emma," she said. "Do you remember anything about being wounded?"

He closed his eyes again, thinking back. "I was on a beach. There were men all around, and explosions."

"That's right," she said softly. "Do you need another drink?"

"No." He tried shaking his head, but it brought a wave of pain that made his stomach turn over. "Why does my head hurt?"

"You have a concussion," she said. "And we pulled a handful of shell fragments out of you, too."

"Shell fragments?" he wasn't entirely sure what that meant. Obviously, he'd been near the blast when it happened.

"There's more," she said softly, her eyes full of some emotion he couldn't quite identify. She reached down, touching his left arm briefly. "They had to take your hand," she said, her eyes welling with tears. "I'm so sorry."

He managed to turn his head and slightly lift his arm, but the effort cost him. He grimaced, his head falling back against the pillow. "Bloody hell."

She squeezed his other hand, and he opened his eyes again. "I know this is going to take a lot of adjustment," she said, "But you're going to be just fine. And that handsome face of yours made it through without a scratch."

He gave her a crooked grin. "It's all right, Swan. I've certainly had worse days."

She adjusted the dressing on his head. "Where are you from, soldier?"

"From?"

"Obviously, you're not one of us Yanks," she said. "You're from England, right? From here in London?"

He smiled, nodding as if she were correct. He had no idea if that's what he was supposed to say, but she seemed satisfied. "Is that where I am?"

"Yes. They transferred you here when the allied hospital filled up. They'll be moving you out again when you've recovered."

She was sitting on the bed at his side, and she reached past him to grab something. "I found a comb in your mess kit," she said. "How about we straighten this mop out?" Killian closed his eyes again as she drew the comb through his hair gently, tugging lightly at the knots and setting it to rights.

"That feels incredible," he said smiling. He opened his eyes and looked up at her. "Emma...if I ask you some questions, will you answer them? Even if they sound...odd?"

She gave him a sympathetic look. "It's perfectly normal to feel a little scrambled when you're working off a concussion," she answered. "Go ahead. Ask away."

"I've been injured...in a battle?"

"That's right. You were on Gold Beach, during the D-Day invasion. You've been out for nearly a week. Along with the concussion and the hand, you're fighting off a pretty serious infection from some of the shrapnel wounds. You also took a bullet in your thigh. We've got you sedated pretty well, so you may not feel it all."

"Oh, I definitely feel some of it," he said, wishing he could shift and get comfortable. His limbs were still too heavy and uncooperative. He tried anyway, and the pain washed over him in a wave, leaving him panting.

"Try not to move too much," she said softly. "You're about due for more medication." She moved to get up, and he managed to grip her fingers with his own. "Wait - Emma..." he took a couple of deep breaths, fighting back the nausea from the increased level of pain. He met her eyes, willing her to remember.

"What about Storybrooke?"

She looked at him blankly. "Storybrooke?"

"Where you live," he prompted. "Storybrooke."

She smoothed his hair back. "I'm from Boston. Maybe you're thinking of someone else."

He bit his lip, trying to think, and she misinterpreted. "I'll get your meds. Hold on." She got to her feet, and walked to the medicine cabinet on the wall. He closed his eyes again, trying to combat the dizziness and nausea, forcing himself to breathe slowly. He felt a prick on his arm, but before he could focus on her again, she'd put the needle in him, and the darkness was dragging him down...down...down...

The fight to consciousness took a lot longer this time. He was pulled from the blackness by the sound of a dog barking, and Emma's voice.

"I mean it, private, get that dog out of here," she warned in a hushed tone.

"But ma'am, Pongo here is our unit mascot. The boys was all asking about him. He won't hurt nothin'."

"I have a ward full of patients," she said tersely, "Some of whom are fighting off life-threatening infections. This is a sterile room - the last thing I need in here is a stray animal. Now get him out!"

"Yes, ma'am." The chagrined voice of the private carried over to him, along with the clacking of heels on the floor. A few moments later, or possibly hours - he wasn't sure - he felt a cooling wetness upon his brow, and the pressure of her hand in his. He drifted off.

Sometime later - he was unsure how much later - he tried to open his eyes but everything was washed in a haze of white, and the pain was burning through him, consuming him in a welter of sweat and nausea. He couldn't manage to keep his eyes open, and an attempt at calling her name ended in a gasp of air and a cough full of viscous phlegm that tore a moan of agony from his chest.

"How is he?" he heard a voice ask.

He felt the press of her fingers around his hand again. "It won't be long," she whispered, and the sadness in her voice pulled at him. He knew she was right. This was it, and he was dying.

He gave himself up to it, too tired to fight, hoping, as she'd said - that it wouldn't be long. His final thought, before he took his last, shuddering breath, was only the wish that he could have seen her face just one more time.


	6. The Black Swan

Regina raised her head from where she was laying curled up on the chair across from Hook. She'd been in a deep, dreamless sleep but a noise - probably Henry rolling over in his sleep - and now she was awake. Given her pattern of late, she'd be awake for quite awhile.

She stretched her legs out, flexing her ankles in an attempt to get some blood circulating back into them, and rolled her head slowly on her neck. She glanced over at Henry, sprawled in his sleeping bag, and a smile touched her lips. Thank God for Henry. If it weren't for him...

Her thought were interrupted by a sound again, and this time it most definitely wasn't Henry - she'd been looking right at him. Regina cautiously lowered her feet to the floor and stood up, listening intently. There it was again...a slight scraping. She glanced over her shoulder again at Henry - who had stirred slightly but hadn't woken up - then she moved silently through the doorway and into the hall beyond.

The sound came again, the scraping followed by a slight thump, and she was readying a fireball in her hand when Henry's voice sounded behind her.

"Mom? Wh-what's going on?" His voice was cloudy with sleep, and he rubbed a tired hand over his eyes.

Regina put a finger to her lips, and Henry's eyes widened, and he nodded in acknowledgement. She moved forward, leaning around the doorway into the sitting room and flipping on the light. There was no one there. A cold gust of air ruffled the curtains, and she moved into the room, fireball still in hand. Henry approached behind her.

"Why is the window open?" he asked. "We didn't leave it open."

"I know." Her words were short and flat. "Henry, pick up the phone and call David. Now. You stay here - I'm going to check out the rest of the house."

"But Mom - "

"Do it."

Henry walked over to the telephone and Regina moved back into the hallway, walking into the kitchen and making a full circuit of the downstairs. By the time she'd finished upstairs, David was at the door.

"Are you okay?" he asked, stepping into the house. "I scouted the perimeter, but there's no sign of anyone."

"We're fine," Henry said.

"There's no one in here, either, but someone sure as hell tried." Regina led him into the sitting room, showing him the open window.

"Who would do this?" David asked.

"Why are you quizzing me?" Regina said. "I certainly haven't pissed anybody off lately."

"I'm going to go outside again and look more closely around the window area. Don't touch the window," David cautioned. "I'm going to dust for prints."

Regina nodded. "Henry, I think I'd rather have you sleeping upstairs and off the main floor."

"What if whoever it was is trying to hurt Killian?"

Regina's eyebrows raised. "Hurt Hook? Why?"

Henry bit his lip, looking over at Hook where he lay unmoving on the couch.

"Maybe somebody doesn't want him to find my Mom."

###

Emma was sitting at a rolltop desk, dunking a quill pen in the ink pot when the alarm sounded. A few moments later, a man's face appeared in the doorway.

"Begging your pardon, Cap'n," he said, with a bob of his head. "But you'd best come up top. We've got trouble."

"Trouble?" She looked around the room, trying to get her bearings.

"He's here, Cap'n. He must've heard it was you who beat him to the prize."

"He did, huh?" Emma laid the pen carefully down on the desk, then picked it up again, making a great show of putting it back in its holder in a play for time. "Go ahead back up," she said. "I'll be along in a minute."

"Cap'n?"

"You heard me," she said firmly. Okay, whoever he was, he was an underling, and she was his captain. That much she could figure out. How the hell she got here, she had no idea. A few minutes ago, she was on a street in New York with Regina and Robin, and now...here.

And once again, she had no idea where the hell "here" was. The man gave a nervous half-bow and exited the room quickly. Emma glanced around, trying to get a feel for her new surroundings. She stood up, and immediately grabbed for the edge of the desk.

The floor had just shifted beneath her. She was on a ship. Her eyes shifted to the full-length mirror mounted to a nearby wall and she turned to it slowly, her jaw falling open.

Thigh high black boots, tight black leather pants, a black leather corset and a crimson shirt, unbuttoned low enough to make the most of her 'assets', which were prominently displayed courtesy of the corset. The swordbelt at her hip held a gleaming cutlass, and a coiled whip hung from the other side. Her hair fell in glorious tumble about her shoulders and the rings on her fingers and dangling earrings only cemented the picture.

"Holy shit," she mumbled. "I'm a pirate."

The sound of pounding footsteps on the deck above her and the shouting of men followed by the sound of swords clanging brought her out of her daze. She made her way to the ladder and got one foot on the bottom-most rung when a voice rang out.

"Enough! Now where's your scurvy dog of a captain! He took what was rightfully mine, and I will have it back or I will have his head."

Emma's face instantly went from alarm to elation. She'd know that voice anywhere. She hurried up the ladder, stepping up onto the deck. He was facing away from her, and her shoulders sagged in relief when she saw him.

"Killian!"

He spun around, cutlass at the ready, and the double-take he did when he saw her nearly made her laugh out loud.

"Okay, I admit, I look ridiculous," she said, stepping down from the wheel deck to meet him.

"On the contrary, milady," he said with a mocking bow. "You look quite fetching. Now be a good girl and find the captain. He and I can finish our business, and then you and I can commence with ours." He gave her wicked grin, and she slowed to a stop in front of him.

"Killian." She eyed him warily.

"That's twice now that you've used my given name," he pointed out. "But I've no memory of having made your acquaintance."

She stared at him, not quite understanding. "You don't know me?"

He quirked a brow. "Not yet. But I will, love, I promise." He glanced around the deck at the rest of the crew, raising his voice so that he could be easily heard. "Now, where is your captain?"

Emma stepped a little closer, clearing her throat self-consciously. He turned to look at her again.

"Uh..._I'm_ the captain. I think." She looked over at the man who'd spoken to her earlier, and he nodded vigorously. "Yeah," she said. "That's me."

Killian's looked at her in disbelief. "_You're_ the captain of The Black Swan?"

"Yep." She gave him an apologetic smile.

His eyes narrowed, and before she could react, he stepped in and brought the edge of his hook to her neck. "I'd hate to have to tear a hole in this lovely throat of yours," he said, in a voice loaded with menace. "So give me the chest, and we'll be on our way." He leaned in, his mouth hovering above hers. "And just to show I'm a gentleman, I'll let you keep your life and your ship - provided you treat me with a little...cordiality."

Emma's eyes widened, but at the same time, it was impossible not to respond to the feel of his body against her. Something in his eyes flared, and his regard shifted just-so-slightly, letting her know that he was more than aware of the chemistry between them.

"Hey," she said, bring her hand up and pushing his hook away from her neck. "Can't we...talk about this? Somewhere private?"

His eyes went from considering to smoldering, dropping to her lips and taking a long, slow perusal of her body before moving back up to meet hers. "So you think to buy my favor in a time-honored manner, do you?" He smiled, pulling up a lock of her hair with his hook. "I warn you...if this is a trick and you think to gut me while I'm distracted by your charms, you might want to reconsider. I'll not kill a woman, but I'm not likely to be a gentleman, either, if you cross me."

Emma couldn't help the shiver that skittered down her spine. This was crazy. Seriously crazy. Had she time-traveled? Was she so far back that he didn't know her yet? And if so, how could it be that all these men seemed to think she was their captain? She needed to figure this out and she needed Killian with her on this. He was clever as hell and incredibly resourceful. Even if he couldn't remember her, he could help her. She needed to get him alone, and she needed to talk to him. Time to turn on the tavern wench charm.

"You can have the chest," she said, smiling. "I only took it to get your attention, anyway."

He looked slightly taken aback, but recovered quickly. "Is that so?"

"Of course. I'd heard about the notorious Captain Hook, and I wanted to make his acquaintance." Her hand fingers came up, sliding along and around his hook. "Is that so hard to believe?"

His eyes darkened slightly, but he was still on his guard, from the looks of him.

"Why not just approach me, then?" he asked reasonably. "I certainly wouldn't have turned you down."

"Maybe I've got more to...discuss," she said mysteriously. "Maybe a few hours in a tavern wouldn't be enough time for what I'd like to be doing."

"Then perhaps we should adjourn to the Jolly Roger, to complete our...negotiations," he purred, and Emma found it hard to remember what it was she needed to talk to him about. Oh yeah. What the hell was going on - that's what it was. She took in a deep breath and tried to clear her mind.

"Shall we go?" she asked, coquettishly.

He put a proprietary hand to the small of her back, guiding her toward the gangplank. "My ship is docked a short distance away," he informed her. "I trust you have no objection to my crew keeping yours company until we've finished our business?"

"Sure," she said, with a careless wave of her hand. "Take the crew."

He raised a brow, looking more than a little confused by that, which was nothing compared to the looks and shouts of her crew at that proclamation.

Killian shot a look at Mr. Smee, who was holding one of her men at swordpoint, and Smee shot a look back that clearly said he though she was unbalanced. She'd better do a better job of convincing them. Killian always said she'd make a good pirate. Time to act the part.

"All right, you mangy dogs!" she called out to the crew. "The Captain and I have business to discuss - business that will be profitable for all of us. So shut your damn mouths and don't give me any trouble." She drew her cutlass. "I know how to use this and you don't want to be at the other end of it."

Killian eyed her thoughtfully, reaching out to finger the whip at her belt. "And do you know how to use this?" he asked in low voice.

She smiled, holding his eyes boldly. "I like to use it while I'm wearing my boots," she said. Then she leaned in and whispered, "And nothing else."

"Mr. Smee!" Killian's voice rang out.

"Cap'n?"

"We're going to be awhile. Possibly the entire night. See that her crew is fed." He spoke to his first mate, but his eyes remained locked with Emma's.

"Aye, sir," Smee replied.

Killian put a hand to her elbow, guiding her once again to the gangplank.

"Let's go. You and I have much to...discuss."


	7. The Tease Of A Memory

Killian led her down the dock to the Jolly, cautioning her to mind the group of rats feasting on the scrap bins outside the tavern nearby. She shuddered, stepping away, and nearly fell off the dock as a rotted section of board gave out near the edge. Killian slid an arm around her waist, hauling her back to safety.

"Thanks," she mumbled.

"They're not much on repairs here," he said. "But you didn't have to put your life in jeopardy just to get close to me, love."

She rolled her eyes at him and let him lead her up the gangplank, her mind working furiously to figure out what she was going to say to him as she mounted the stairs to the wheel deck, where he slid open the hatch to captain's cabin. He gestured for her to precede him down the ladder, and she gave him a nervous smile before climbing down. She'd just stepped off the final rung and was framing exactly what she was going to say and how she was going to say it when his feet hit the floor next to her and she was whirled around and pressed to the wall.

"Wait! Killi-" She broke off when his mouth closed over hers, his lips warm and pliant, working over hers as his body pressed into her. He pulled back to come up for air, but before she could get a word in, he bent his knees slightly, then rocked his hips into her as he slid an arm around her and claimed her lips again, deepening the kiss and sliding his tongue inside her mouth to stroke and rub against hers.

Emma had been pressing her hands against his chest, but now her fingers curled into his lapels as he continued to drug her with his kisses and the feel of that body hot and hard against her. She let out a gasp as his mouth moved to her neck, the feel of it sending shivers through her as she fought valiantly to regain some semblance of focus.

"Killian," she breathed. "We have to talk."

"We'll talk later," he said, his voice muffled against her skin. "Much later..."

She was about to contradict him when she felt the stroke of his tongue against her collarbone, working its way over to play in the hollow of her throat. She brought her hands up, tangling in his hair, and her eyes closed as she felt herself becoming boneless, melting into him...

She had to get control, here. None of this was going as planned. She reluctantly opened her eyes, then she tightened her fingers in his hair, and yanked his head back.

"Killian." There. Her voice sounded sort-of firm.

He paused, giving her a slightly amused smile. The heat in his eyes made her almost tell him to nevermind, but she bit her lip and stuck to her guns.

"We have to talk. Now."

"Whatever gave you the idea that you're in charge here?" he asked her mockingly. He brought his mouth down to brush against hers once, twice, as if showing her that he was the one calling the shots. She started to say something but he claimed her lips again, this time slowly, and with a familiar gentleness that brought a prick of tears to her eyes.

"You don't really want to stop now, do you, love?" he asked quietly, punctuating his entreaty with soft, wet, sucking kisses. "Plenty of time for talking later," he murmured.

"I...mmmm...really...nnnnngg...we need to do this..."

"Oh, I know...I know..." he trailed a line of kisses across to her jaw, his lips feather-light as they worked upwards to her ear, and his hand - oh, God, his hand - brushing ever-so-delicately along the underside of her breast. She had to stop this now or they'd definitely be talking later - if she could form words, that is.

"Killian!" She pushed him off her, and she took a staggering step to the side, putting a defensive hand up. "I mean it. I need to talk to you."

The smoldering look in his eyes wasn't helping her control, and from the sound of his labored breathing, his own control was precarious, at best.

"What are you playing at?" He growled. "You tease me at your peril." He took a menacing step forward and she put a second hand up.

"Whoa - no! You stay over there. Let me get my thoughts in order."

He gave her a _very_ knowing grin. "Having trouble with that, are we?" He reached for her again, and she swatted his hand away before walking over toward the table and pulling out a chair.

"Here. Sit down and let's hash this out."

He walked toward her with measured steps, looking at her as if he were trying to figure her out. He gestured to the chair in a gallant way and she sat, only to have her hair yanked quite suddenly and her cutlass pulled out of it's holster and then pressed just beneath her chin.

"Once again, I've got your lovely throat at my disposal," he said, almost matter-of-factly. "Perhaps you think you can play coquette and get out of paying me my due, but I assure you, I have an entirely different scenario in mind. Now where is my chest?"

"What is in that damn chest, anyway?" Emma gritted out. "You're really hung up on it."

"As if you haven't opened it and perused the contents," he sneered.

"Uh...I haven't," she said, looking up at him. "Really."

He made an impatient sound, then abruptly pulled away from her, pacing back and forth. "The chest contained an item that would be of great value only to me...a sextant, to be specific. One that was stolen from me by a new member of the crew who was found with his throat slit the following day. I've been trailing this chest ever since, and I'll not be denied it over the wiles of woman."

"A sextant?" She gave him a quizzical look. "Like the one you took to Neverland?"

He stopped pacing, turning back to her slowly. "What do you know about that?" he asked warily. "Who told you that?"

"Listen, Killian - " she rose to face him.

"Who told you about the sextant!" he thundered, rounding on her and reaching out to grab her. A split-second later, her whip was looped around his hook and pulling him off balance. She kicked the cutlass out of his hand, then swung him hard into the bed, where he fell, face-first. Emma yanked the whip, pulling his arm up behind him and managed to grab his hand, twisting the fingers painfully until she positioned it next to the hook. Then she tied his wrists together and rolled him onto his back.

He grinned at her, breathing hard.

"If you wanted to truss me up," he panted, "You should have undressed me first." He started to get up and she threw a leg over him, sitting on him and pinning him down. He raised his head, looking down his body at the spread of her legs on either side of his hips, then dropped his head back again.

"You definitely should have undressed me," he said. "Did it ever occur to you that an exhausted man is a compliant man?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not here to exhaust you. I'm here to talk to you."

He gave her an appraising look. "I've underestimated you, love. I don't do that often."

"Good," she said. "Maybe now you'll listen to me. I need your help."

He smiled a slow, sexy smile. "I was in the process of 'assisting' you when you stopped me," he reminded her.

She gave him a look. "I don't need _that_ kind of help."

"We all need that kind of help, darling," he said with a cheeky grin. "And from the heat I'm feeling coming off of you, you still need it." He shifted just slightly, arching his back and grinding against her right on a _very_ sensitive spot. Emma's eyes closed for a moment as her thighs tightened against him. She opened her eyes again to see him grinning at her, with that damn eyebrow cocked in a very smug way. She shook her head to clear it.

"You need to listen to me. Something's going on here, and I need your help to figure out what. I'm trapped in some kind of strange...I don't know. I really don't."

"Tell me more," he invited.

"I don't know exactly where to st-"

She didn't get to finish her sentence. Killian reared up, having just unfastened his arms, and he flipped her over neatly onto her back, pinning her beneath him.

"Now then," he said, jerking a bit as she tried to get out from under him and he held her fast. "We can do this all night, but I suspect it would be rather tiring. If we're going to exhaust each other, it really should be more enjoyable, don't you think?"

"Let me go."

"No." He touched her face, rubbing the edge of her jaw with his thumb, thoughtfully. "No, I have a better idea. I'm going to give you ten minutes. Ten minutes without interruption, and you can tell me anything."

Emma looked surprised. "Really?"

"Really. It's obvious that you and I will be getting nowhere until you've had your say. So say it."

"Okay..." Emma looked up at him warily. "And then what?"

His eyes darkened, and he leaned in, brushing her lips with his. "Then I get my turn."

She took in a deep, shaky breath and made her decision. "Okay. We'll do it your way."

He pulled back, rolling onto his elbow, but keeping a leg thrown over hers and his hand rested gently on her waist. It was clear he wasn't taking any chances with her trying to get away from him again.

"There now," he said reasonably. "Isn't that better? We'll just stay here, nice and cozy, while we have our chat."

"Fine," she agreed. "But you have to promise to hear me out, and listen with an open mind, no matter how...farfetched it all seems."

"Try me." He gave her a crooked grin that loaded his phrase with a wealth of double-entendre.

"Okay...here goes. I'm not supposed to be here."

"You came here quite willingly, as I recall."

"I don't mean "here" here. I mean in this realm. In this time. I'm not from here." She reconsidered a moment. "Wait - I _am_ from here, but I don't live here. Or at least, I'm not supposed to."

He didn't say a word, he merely raised those magnificently sculpted brows and looked at her expectantly. Emma sighed.

"Let me start over. You come from a land of magic, right?"

"As do you," he pointed out.

"Exactly. I've been hit by some kind of magic that sent me here. And before I arrived here, I was in another realm, one without magic. And before that, I was in Storybrooke."

"Storybrooke?" He looked at her blankly.

"It's where I'm from. And you were there with me. I know - " she held up a hand. "I know you don't remember that, and this is exactly what I'm talking about. I'm not the captain of the Black Swan, but all these men seem to think so. Five minutes before you showed up, I suddenly poofed onto that ship and right into the middle of this mess. Before that, I'd poofed into another scenario. And before that, I was home, talking to you, right in this cabin."

"Poofed. You _poofed_?"

"I disappeared and reappeared. What the hell else do you call it?" she said in exasperation. "I'm just trying to figure out what the hell is going on. Some sort of magic is sending me hopping from reality to reality and I have no idea why. That's why I'm asking for your help."

He looked down at her a moment, bringing his hand up to stroke his beard. "You're serious."

"Yes!"

"I don't know of any sort of magic that would do what you suggest."

"You have to believe me," she said. "I'm telling the truth."

"Oh, I believe you," he assured. "No, I really do. It's quite the tale and entirely too bizarre to have been fabricated. Did you get on the wrong side of witch or something?"

"Not that I know of."

"Why were we aboard ship?" he asked.

"You'd just gotten the Jolly back after you traded it away and-"

"I _what_?"

Emma smiled up at him. "It's a long story. Anyway, you were digging through a trunk full of stuff to get me an umbrella, and some things hit the floor. I went after one of them and when I touched it, it started me hopping around."

His face was pensive, and he rubbed his beard again. "I have nothing on my ship that would do that - nothing magical with that kind of power, anyway."

"Can you think of anything you may have seen or heard of in your travels?" she asked. "You get around pretty well."

He shook his head. "Alas, nothing comes to mind. But I can make some inquiries for you. I have some sources that are better acquainted with dark magic than I am. Perhaps I can help you find some answers."

She let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you. I knew you'd come through for me."

"I will indeed," he promised. "But will you come through for me?"

She froze beneath him. "You still want to...?"

He gave her an incredulous look. "What do you think?"

"I guess I just thought you'd be more curious and want to talk some more."

"I _am_ curious," he replied, "But I can't go after your answers until morning, since I'm going to start with a certain shopkeeper I know who sells rare ingredients to those who dabble in dark magic. That leaves the rest of the evening free." His hand stroked across her belly, rubbing slow circles of heat beneath his fingertips. "We do have an agreement," he reminded her.

"We do," she agreed. "But I have a few more things I'd like to talk about first..."

He leaned down, kissing her softly and stopping the words on her lips.

"You're stalling," he said softly, kissing her again. "And I don't know why. According to you, I'm hardly a stranger."

"No, you're not," she said, pulling away to look at him. "You and I have known each other for nearly a year now," she said, willing him to remember. "We climbed a beanstalk together. We even went to Neverland together and defeated Peter Pan. Then you came to Storybrooke and together, we defeated a witch. We traveled time together, and then...this happened."

He looked at her strangely. "We...climbed a beanstalk?"

"Yes. One with a giant at the top."

"For a...a compass." His eyes were puzzled, as if he were pulling at the memory.

"Yes! Killian, yes! You remember!"

"I do. Swan - you left me there." His eyes turned accusing.

"I did, but then you found me again - do you remember coming to Storybrooke?"

"The compass took you back to Storybrooke," he said slowly, then he sat up on the bunk. Emma scrambled up, sitting on her knees next to him.

"That's right," she said excitedly. "Killian - you're remembering!"

"It's more than that... I-" he was cut off by the sounds of feet pounding up the gangplank, and the shouts of his men. A moment later, Mr. Smee flung the hatch wide.

"Cap'n! You'd better come quickly - her crew got free and they managed to reclaim the ship. They've pushed off and they may be training cannons on us even as we-"

A loud boom split the air, and the ship shook beneath them. Emma's alarmed eyes met Killian's and he pushed her toward the ladder, while he shouted orders at the top of his lungs. Once he got topside, he ran for the wheel, and collided with Mr. Smee, who had been running toward him, sending them both staggering backwards. Killian's boot caught the edge of a coil of rope, tripping him up further and he stumbled, arms flailing, as he went backward over the rail, and down, down, down, toward the water below.

He was more than a little confused when he landed face-down in the dirt, with a sheep nudging at his head.


	8. Daddy Dearest

Killian rolled onto his back, grateful in the extreme that he could breathe deeply again. He'd felt like he was drowning in fluids and in truth, he had been. He'd been dying, he was sure of it. And now...

He opened his eyes and saw blue sky, disoriented for a moment by the sight of it. He could see again!

His last memory was a haze of deep, burning pain and... Emma. Her voice, the feel of her fingers in his...and they'd been talking about the compass.

Wait.

He closed his eyes, willing the memory to firm up. He'd been a soldier, badly wounded, and Emma had been...wearing a black leather corset?

A snuffling sound followed by something wet on his neck brought him back to where he was now. He made a disgusted face and pushed the sheep away, pushing himself to a sitting position. He went back over all of it, piece by piece in his mind.

He'd been ill, she was taking care of him - a doctor or a healer of sorts. He'd died there and awoken here, but somewhere in the foggy limbo of his mind was the vague, teasing memory - a fragment, nothing more - of a dream, where he'd been talking to Emma about the compass and Storybrooke, aboard his ship. And they were...what? He couldn't shake the feeling that there was more there, a lot more...but what?

He got to his feet, dusting off his pants and then stopping to touch them again, rolling the material between his fingers. It was homespun, the color of dun and meager and threadbare in the extreme. He was wearing a simple white shirt, scratchy against his neck and to add insult to injury, it was ill-fitting.

"Gads!" he complained. "What the hell am I wearing?"

He took a step forward, only to realize there was a hole in his boot, and he'd stepped right into a patch of mud. At least, he hoped it was mud. He wiped his foot off on a tuft of grass, then put his hands on his hips and looked around. He was on a farm, that much was clear. He reached into his pocket, giving a sigh of relief when he felt the compass. He fished it out, holding it in front of him.

"Looking for something?"

Killian whirled at the sound of a familiar voice. David stood leaning on a pitchfork, giving Killian a slow once-over.

"Hello..." Killian said carefully, not entirely sure what was going on.

"You look lost," David remarked. "Wherever you're going, I think you'll need to step out of the sheep pen to get there." He smiled good-naturedly, and Killian returned the smile, moving to the gate and opening it to step through.

"That's quite an affectionate sheep you have there," Killian said. "I believe he thought I was dinner."

David stepped forward, extending his hand. "I'm David."

Killian reached out, shaking his hand. "Killian. And you're correct - I am a bit lost. But it's some_one_ I'm looking for, not some_thing_."

"I know most everyone around here," David said. "What's the name?"

"Emma."

"Emma." David drummed his fingers against his chin. "Emma...Emma...hmmm...let me think..." David's musings were interrupted by a shutter being thrown wide on the farmhouse window, and Snow, peeking her head out.

"David? Who are you talking to?"

"We have a visitor," he called back.

"Well, invite him in," Snow said. "We were just about to sit down to dinner - he's welcome to join us."

"He's here to see Emma," David remarked, flipping the pitchfork over and making a great show of cleaning the tines. "I'm not sure if he'll be joining us."

Snow rolled her eyes. "Oh David, for heaven's sake!" She looked over at Killian. "You're welcome to stay for dinner, Mr...?"

"Jones. But please, call me Killian."

"Killian!" Emma's startled face appeared suddenly in the window next to Snow.

"Swan!" His eyes lit up, and he broke into a wide grin. Snow gave him a confused look, as did David.

"Swan?" he asked. "Is that a nickname or something?"

"It is," Killian answered smoothly. "And it so happens that I'm famished. I'd be very grateful to share in your hospitality."

He was talking to David, but his eyes were on Emma. She recognized him. That was a very, very good sign. But was she truly aware? Killian moved toward the farmhouse door, but David blocked his way with an extended pitchfork.

"Not so fast," he said. "My daughter has suitors stopping by on a regular basis, and so far, I've been unimpressed. You're going to need to convince me that you're worth her time - right after you tell me how you met."

Killian pasted on a smile. "Certainly. We can do all that over dinner."

"Good." David propped the pitchfork against the side of the fence. "Two rules about my house: First, take off those muddy boots before you come inside and second: I can throw you out anytime I want to. Understood?"

Somehow, Killian managed not to roll his eyes. "Absolutely." He walked over to the door, carefully tugging off his boots and placing them on the doorstep. David opened the door and gestured for him to go inside. Snow greeted him warmly, insisting that he take a seat at the end of the table opposite David, and then she brought over a large tureen of stew while Emma brought an extra place setting.

"Killian," she whispered under her breath. "We need to talk."

"Can you get away?" he whispered back, covering his mouth with his hand in a way that made it look like he was smoothing his beard.

"That's enough whispering down there," David said, taking his seat. "Emma, why don't you sit down and since you two seem so familiar, why don't you introduce us to our guest?"

Emma looked up guiltily, then slunk over to her seat, easing into it. She cleared her throat and Snow smiled at her encouragingly.

"Uh...this is Killian Jones," she said.

"And where do you know Killian from?" David asked, helping himself to stew.

"From...uh..." she seemed to have difficulty with that one, so Killian jumped in to help.

"We met at the market," he added helpfully, taking the platter of bread that Snow passed him.

"And what is it that you do at the market?" David asked. "I don't recall seeing you there."

"I'm traveling," Killian answered.

"He's a cobbler," Emma said at the same time.

Snow gave her a confused look.

"I'm a traveling cobbler," Killian lied smoothly. "People are sometimes in need of a cobbler while making a journey, and they can't always wait to make it to the next village."

"And there's a lot of demand for a traveling cobbler?" David grilled.

"You've no idea," Killian said with a smile. "I make quite a comfortable living."

"And what sort of future is that for my daughter?" David asked.

"Beg pardon?"

"You," David said, pointing at Killian with his spoon, "Live a rootless existence, wandering from place to place, never settling down and you expect my daughter to...what? Just 'wander' with you? You might as well be some kind of marauding pirate or something."

"David," Snow censured. "It's hardly fair to compare a cobbler with a black-hearted pirate."

"Black-hearted!" Killian was good and offended now. "And what's wrong with being a pirate? Pirates are people, you know."

"Killian-" Emma warned under her breath.

"Not people I'd allow to court my daughter," David said firmly. "And someone without a home to offer her isn't much higher on the list."

"Can I say something?" Emma tried to interject.

"Emma, I'm only looking out for your best interests," David said. "If and when you ever do marry..."

"At this rate, it's more of an 'if' and not a when," Snow said. "David, Emma does have some say in this."

"I know that," David said reasonably. "I'm just saying that as her parents, we have a perfect right to...eliminate certain people from the running."

"Just how many suitors are we talking about, here?" Killian asked, with a good deal of indignation.

"Let's stick to the subject, all right?" Snow asked, cheerily. "Killian was going to tell us his plans for providing a home for Emma."

"I was?" Killian looked perplexed, until Emma kicked him under the table. "Oh, yes. Of course I was. Well." He cleared his throat. "I do plan to settle down and open my own shop."

"When?" David asked.

"Why, now, of course. I was just looking for the right woman to settle down with."

"Where?" David's eyes narrowed.

"Here. Emma needs to be close to her family, of course."

Snow slid her eyes sideways to David, and smiled. David took a drink of his ale.

"Hmmph," he said.

"Well?" Snow prompted.

"That's the first solid point he's made," David said. "How are you at farming?"

"Farming?" Killian looked puzzled.

"Yeah, farming. Stop by tomorrow morning at dawn. I'm going to put you to work." David set his cup down, fixing Killian with his steely gaze. "Let's see how an honest day's labor sits with you."

Killian swallowed hard under David's scrutiny. "All right."

David gave him a perfunctory nod. "Thank you for joining us. Emma, will you see our guest to the door, please?"

Emma looked up from her food. "Uh...sure."

Killian stood up - awkwardly aware that he hadn't even finished his meal - and thanked them for their hospitality. He followed Emma out of the room to the front door. Once they were out of sight, he pulled her over against a wall.

"Emma," he said in a low voice. "We need to-"

"Emma!" David's voice carried from the other room. "Say goodnight!"

"All right!" She yelled back, clearly exasperated. Then she lowered her voice. "Meet me by the giant oak at the end of pasture. I'll sneak out after they're asleep."

"I'll be waiting," he whispered back.

"And I look forward to hearing about more of your career plans," Emma said, raising her voice just slightly and shifting her eyes somewhere over Killian's shoulder. Killian smiled, bowing gallantly over her hand. He wasn't stupid. David had obviously just come in right behind him.

"You get some rest," Killian said to her. "And I shall sleep better myself knowing that your father watches over you so diligently."

Emma rolled her eyes, letting him know that was a bit much, then she opened the door, and he stepped through. David came up behind her, shutting the door with the flat of his hand.

"Guess I'd better get the animals in and then head straight to bed," David remarked. "I've got a long day tomorrow. A looooong day." He dusted his hands together in a very self-satisfied way, opened the door and went to find his pitchfork.

###

It was well past midnight when he saw a hooded figure coming towards him, and it was limping slightly. Killian pulled back behind the bushes that faced the tree, not putting it past David to come snooping around.

"Killian!" Emma's voice came in a loud whisper. She walked around the tree once, calling out again.

"Killian! Are you - ouch!" Killian stepped out of the bushes, rushing over to her.

"Swan! Are you all right?"

"I twisted my - dammit!" she reached out, steadying herself with a hand on the tree. "I twisted my ankle climbing out my window."

"Why didn't you just go through the door?" he asked.

"My father was sleeping in front of my door," she said flatly. She threw her hood off, looking at him warily. "Before I waste my time, here...how do you know me?"

"What?" Killian looked at her just as warily as she looked at him. "You don't remember me?"

"Of course I remember you. I know your damn name, don't I?"

"Don't get testy," he placated. "Let's start over. Do you know the name 'Storybrooke?'"

Emma's eyes widened. "Yes! Yes!"

"And do you remember being on the Jolly Roger with me? After a picnic?"

"Yes! Oh, God, Killian, yes!" She threw her arms around him. "It's you. It's really you. I mean, I've seen you, but you weren't you, exactly."

"Emma..." he held her close, kissing her hair. "It's all right, love. I'm here. And I know what's going on."

She slumped against him in pure relief. "You do?"

"Yes."

"I'm not going crazy?"

He pulled back, pushing her hair back from her face. "Your whole damned life is crazy. But this time, love, I'm afraid it's magic. Again."

"Magic." She said it darkly. "Why is it always _magic_?"

"Dark magic, to be specific."

She gave him a look. "Why am I not surprised." She glanced around, and her eyes landed on a fallen log nearby. "Can we sit? My ankle really is hurting like a bitch."

Killian put a supportive arm around her, helping her over to the log and sitting down next to her.

"He was sleeping outside your door?"

"Guess he figured I was going to run off with you."

Killian smiled, lifting his eyebrows. "Were you?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" she reached down, taking off her shoe and rubbing her ankle. "Now can you tell me where here is and what the hell I'm doing here?"

Killian reached over, gently turning her and lifting her ankle into his lap. "Leave this to me, Swan - you just listen." He began to gently knead the soreness away, and Emma closed her eyes, letting him fill her in as the pain started to recede.

"When you chased after that strange ball that rolled under the table, you unwittingly encountered something known as a Morpheus Sphere. It was left there either by Cora, or possibly by the phantom captain who brought the Jolly Roger to Storybrooke. The sphere pulls whoever touches it into the dreamscape - an endless world made up of the dreams of everyone living. You have been moving in and out of your dreams and the dreams of others since you got here."

Emma opened her eyes and looked at him in disbelief. "I'm in a dream?"

"Yes, as am I."

"That explains all the different scenarios and the passage of time, I guess."

"Passage of time?" Killian queried.

"I've been here - as near as I can figure - for at least three months."

"Living as a farmer's daughter?"

"Worse," Emma said. "Living as my father's daughter. He and Snow think I'm seventeen. Seriously."

"At least this time, you know me, so it can be deduced that we're not in your dream. Or mine."

"That explains why you didn't know me last time," she said. "I was a pirate, believe it or not."

Killian stopped kneading. "Wait - I do remember that. Not all of it, though. Fragments. Like a wisp of a memory. We were aboard the Jolly and I wanted to show you the compass. I think we'd been talking about it."

Emma leaned forward. "That's right. I tried to talk to you before, but you didn't understand any of it. It wasn't until I started talking about some of the things we'd done together that you started remembering. And then a cannonball hit the ship and you ran up to the deck -"

"And fell overboard," Killian finished for her. "I remember it now. And before that, I was a soldier, and very ill. You were trying to heal me."

Emma looked at him strangely. "In a hospital. It was World War Two or something. You were...dying, I think."

"I was. But you didn't remember me. Not even when I mentioned Storybrooke."

"You didn't recognize Storybrooke, either, the first time I talked about it," Emma said, drumming her fingers on the log. "It wasn't until I put it in context that you knew what it was."

Realization dawned on Killian's face. "That's what Rumpelstiltskin said - you can't fight context within your own dream."

"So...what - when we dream our own dreams, we don't know what's going on - outside the dream, I mean?" Emma reasoned.

"Exactly," Killian nodded. "It'll be up to one or the other of us to remind the other, but it needs to be done subtly, within the context of whatever dream scenario we're in or our minds won't accept it. It needs to be introduced gradually, I wager."

"And then what?"

"Then we try to-"

"Emma!" David's voice thundered from just a few dozen yards away. "What the hell do you think you're doing!"

"Dammit!" Emma jumped to her feet.

"Get away from her!" David shouted at Killian.

"Killian, get out of here!" Emma urged. "I'll find a way to get to you."

Killian stood up. "No, I need to talk to him."

"Are you crazy? He thinks you're running off with me!"

Killian started forward, putting up a placating hand. "Just a minute, there, mate."

"I'm not your mate!" David said heatedly. "Emma! Get in the house!"

"David - listen to him," Emma pleaded.

"Listen to him? He's got my daughter out of bed in the middle of the night! And why are you calling me David?" David looked at her like she was crazy.

"There's a reason for that, and for us being out so late," Killian explained. "You see, I was on my way to Storybrooke..."

"Now isn't the time for an amusing anecdote," David said sarcastically. "My daughter needs to get back in her bed."

"No, she needs to get to Storybrooke." Killian said, carefully.

"With you?"

"You and Snow are welcome to come along," Killian said, smiling. "Wouldn't it be nice to visit Storybrooke again?"

"What are you talking about?" David put his hands on his hips.

"You and Mom used to live there," Emma said. "You told me all about it. Mom got her pie recipe from Granny. She used to serve it in the diner."

David's eyes narrowed, but he nodded his head slowly. "Granny's...yeah. She had great pie."

"Granny's," Emma prompted. "On main street in Storybrooke."

"So now that I've found Emma," Killian said, "I was going to take her to Storybrooke."

"I don't know," David said, still a little confused. "That's pretty far away."

"Yes, it is," Killian agreed. "It's very far away. But that's why I'm here. Because I found Emma."

"You're not running off with my daughter," David said firmly.

"No, I'm not," Killian said. "I'm not. I'm here. I'm here and Emma's here and I found her."

"Yeah? So what?"

"So, we're trying to - wait..." Emma stopped mid-sentence, her head snapping up. "Is that...music?"

"Music?" Killain said, his face showing his puzzlement.

David let out a gasp, sitting straight up in bed. He stared uncomprehending at the alarm clock, shaking his head to clear the fuzziness. The remnants of the dream teased at his memory.

_I'm here and Emma's here and I found her._

"He did it!" he shouted, laughing and waking Snow. "Sonufabitch, he did it!"


	9. At Your Service

Snow switched off the clock radio, breaking into a wide smile.

"You saw something! In a dream!"

"Yes!" David ran a hand through his hair. "I'm only remembering bits and pieces...but he's in there. He was repeating it over and over to me so I'd remember it - he found Emma and they're together."

Snow clasped the covers to her chest tightly. "Oh, thank goodness!" She reached out, picking up the pen and notepad on the nightstand. "Do you remember anything else? Anything at all? Rumpelstiltskin said there might be clues."

David's face screwed up in a mask of concentration. "We were living on a farm - you, me and Emma. And he tried to run off with her."

"Did you smell anything? Hear anything odd? Did either of them give you a clue about where the sphere is?"

David shook his head. "No. Not that I can remember."

Snow put the notepad down. "Well, it's a start. At least we know she's not in there alone."

David reached out, putting an arm around his wife. "I hope she's okay."

"Hook will watch out for her," Snow said. "And Emma's pretty resourceful."

"True, but who knows what they're facing in there?" David said, grimly.

A smile tugged at Snow's lips. "Who knows what kind of adventures they're having? Maybe it's not all bad."

David pulled Snow in tighter. "I hope for her sake, you're right."

###

"Your client is ready in room six," the young woman said to Killian, sticking her head around the door frame.

Killian took a moment to get his bearings. He gave the girl a nod of acknowledgement, not having the foggiest idea as to what he should be doing with that information. He looked down at his attire for clues, but didn't get much. He was wearing black jeans and a black tee shirt, with some sort of logo on the front of it over the left breast pocket.

He glanced around at the room, taking in the muted lighting, the soft music playing in the background, and the people casually reading or checking their phones while sitting on plush couches and chairs. There were art prints on two of the walls, and a giant mosaic featuring a pair of lovebirds was situated over the entryway. He detected a strong floral smell in the air, and fresh flowers filled vases in every corner of the room. He had no idea where he was, but he hazarded a guess that room six might provide him some answers.

Killian stepped out of the room he was in and into a adjoining hallway, relieved to see clearly marked numbers above the various doorways. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the compass - which seemed, happily, to travel with him wherever he went - and checked it. The needle directed him down the hallway, right to room six. He grasped the doorknob and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

He was completely unprepared for the sight that awaited him. A woman lay face-down on a low table, completely unclothed but for a sheet, artfully draped across her shapely bum and nothing else. That was startling enough, but he knew the line of that neck and the set of those shoulders anywhere.

"Emma?"

She raised a non-committal hand. "Come on in," she said, her voice muffled. "I'm ready to go."

He stepped closer, realizing that her face was pillowed in a u-shaped headrest that allowed her to lay face-down more comfortably.

"What are you doing?" he asked carefully.

"Well, I'm really looking for more of an all-over type massage," she said. "A little Swedish, maybe some deep tissue around my neck and shoulders - I carry a lot of tension in that area - and then finish off with that reflexology thing on my feet." She raised her head, turning it to the side to look at him.

"I don't think I've had you before," she said. "Are you new here?"

"Yes." He gave her a smile, his eyes moving over her very naked back. "Yes, I am."

Emma tried very hard not to be mesmerized by that face, but it wasn't working. "Well, get those hands warmed up and get going - I paid for the hour," she reminded him, turning her face back down.

He stared at her blankly for a moment before he snapped out of it. He'd better do as she asked. He extended his right hand, but realized a few seconds later that he had a left hand, too. Once again, he stared at it, flexing it.

"Hey, can you use that coconut oil this time?" Emma asked. "It makes me feel like I'm on an island or something."

Killian swallowed hard. Good God. She wanted him to oil her up. All over her body.

"Of course," he said, working around the sudden dryness in his mouth. Was she going to turn over when he finished this side? How much was he supposed to rub? He moved over to a small table nearby, locating the bottle of coconut oil and squirting some into his palms, warming it between them. He very, very carefully set his hands in the middle of her back, stroking from her lower back up to her shoulders, spreading the oil over and around, reveling in the feel of having two hands and Emma's skin beneath them.

He increased the pressure slightly, moving up toward her neck, rubbing it with his thumbs and working his palms over her shoulders and around the shoulder blades, enjoying the feel of her and watching the gooseflesh gather on her skin. He slid his hands down her sides, moving back around to the very edge of the sheet, wondering if he should slip his hands under it to that glorious backside of hers, when she let out a long, low moan.

"Ooooooh. You're good," she said. "That...feels...amazing..."

Killian smiled, moving around to the other side of the table with a little difficulty because he was now hard as a rock thanks to that moan and all that exposed skin. His fingers itched to move under that sheet, to move under her and see if he could make her really moan...

_Get a grip on yourself, my boy. We have a job to do._

He tried to remind himself of that sternly, but it wasn't easy.

"So when did you start working here?" Emma said conversationally, punctuating it with a tiny gasp and another moan when he rubbed a circular pattern on her lower back.

Killian decided then and there that this wasn't a dream world at all. No, this was purgatory. He was paying for every wicked deed he'd ever done because this was surely torture of the highest degree. How could they expect a man to oil up the woman of his dreams, listen to her moaning for it, and not be able to do more than that? Torture. It was bloody torture.

"I've only come here recently," he said, between gritted teeth, moving down to her legs. He stroked her thighs in light, sweeping patterns, wanting more than anything to take his hand higher.

"Oh?" She made another small noise as he slid his hands toward her inner thighs. His breath caught in his throat when she writhed a little, and her breathing seemed to get a little choppy. "Where were you...before...uh...yeah, right there," she said, nearly driving him out of his mind, "Before this, I mean."

"I was in Storybrooke before my compass directed me here," he said, nonchalantly. "It's a small town, but quite _charming_."

"Never heard of it."

"You'd probably remember it more for..."- he struggled, trying to think of something relevant - "Beans. Their beans are quite notorious. Some even call them magic." He moved down her legs, deciding he couldn't spend another second on her thighs without going stark, raving mad.

"Do you want me to flip over?" she asked.

Killian's eyes widened.

"Yes," he said, somewhat hoarsely. "That would be fine. I'd like that."

Emma laid there, unmoving. "Are you going to hold the sheet up?" she asked.

Killian reached out, grasping the edge. "Yes, of course. My apologies."

"No need to be so formal," Emma said with a smile in her voice. "Or is that just how you British are?"

Killian lifted the sheet up, unable to help glancing down at her amazing and perfect backside but also wise enough to turn his head before she faced up and caught him looking. He settled the sheet back on her, and she pulled it up, covering herself from her breasts to the tops of her thighs. He moved up to the head of the table, reaching down and running his fingers along her neck and forward to her collarbone. He was so distracted, he nearly ignored the niggling thought in his brain, but it teased at him until he made the connection.

"British..." he mused. "You've called me that before."

"I did?" Emma's brow creased. "When did we meet?"

"In a hospital," Killian said carefully. "But not in Storybrooke."

Emma looked up at him now, and he could see that she was sifting through the thoughts in her head. "Wait...we met in a hospital?"

"I believe we encountered each other there," he said, running his hands down her arms and back up again. Best to stay away from the creamy tops of those breasts. A man could only take so much provocation and it wouldn't do to get distracted now.

"Were you...hit by a car?" Emma asked suddenly.

Killian looked at her, startled. "Yes. I was. In Storybrooke."

"When you shot Belle," Emma said, her mouth hanging open. "Killian..." she glanced around, then sat up, grabbing quickly at the sheet and pulling it around her tightly. "Where the hell are we?"

"Emma?" He reached out, touching her arm. "You remember?"

"Are we...dreaming?" she asked.

"Yes. You are. I'm just along for the ride," he said.

"This is my dream..." she mumbled, looking around, still a little confused. "I'm getting a massage."

Killian held up his hands. "Well, I'm doing my best. I must say, I'm enjoying this scenario, Swan."

Emma squeezed her eyes shut. "Wait a minute...if I know I'm dreaming, then I should be waking up, right?"

She looked up to get some confirmation from Killian, but found herself looking at Belle instead.

"Did you hear a word I said?" Belle stood with her hands on her hips.

Emma stared at her, mouth open, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. These reality hops were enough to make your brain explode.

"Sorry...can you repeat that?" she asked Belle, who was now laughing at her.

"I know you've never been overly concerned with ribbons," Belle remarked with a wry grin. "But just this once I need you to indulge me. Now," she said, holding out two lengths of ribbon. "Before we go inside - shall I use the pink or the lavender as the sash for my gown?"

Emma started to gesture, and then realized she was having trouble raising her arms. She gave an incredulous look down and nearly stumbled backwards at the sight of the high-waisted ballgown, bedecked with ribbons and bits of lace, in a shade of warm peach. And once again...a damned corset. If this was one of Killian's dreams she was going to brain him.

"Ummm...go with lavender," she answered, in a non-committal tone.

"You are entirely correct," Belle said, holding up the lavender ribbon. "The pink is so bright as to paint me a flirt. The lavender will give a more modest picture." She tucked the pink ribbon into a small purse that dangled from her wrist.

"That's right," Emma agreed, having no idea how the hell a ribbon could be immodest. She looked around the room, noting the elaborate wainscoting, chandeliers, and wall sconces. Liveried footmen carried trays of wine glasses and punch as they milled through the crowd - which was overflowing the long, narrow room.

"...and he is here this evening, along with his sister and his particular friend." Belle finished, tying her sash and really not realizing that Emma hadn't been listening.

"What?" Emma looked back at Belle in confusion.

"Come on!" She looked at Emma with excitement. "Sir William has agreed to grant us an introduction."

Belle pulled Emma forward, toward the opposite end of the room, stopping along the way to grab an older woman and two younger girls as she went. The whole group came to a sudden stop and Emma rocked on her heels, feeling like she was going to pass out, between the heat of the room and the tightness of her damned corset.

She could see the older gentleman - who must've been Sir William - over the heads of the other girls, and he seemed to be talking but she could barely hear him over the music and the noise of the crowded room. Belle reached back, pulling Emma forward. She tried to take a deep breath, staring hard at the floor because she was honestly seeing spots in front of her eyes. Finally, she felt a nudge from Belle and looked up.

Devilish blue eyes met her blurred vision, and everything sharpened and came into focus as Killian gallantly bent over her hand.

Sir William's voice broke in, announcing:

"Mr. Darcy, of Pemberley."


	10. Compromised

"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Bennett," Killian said. His eyes met Emma's and she took a chance.

"Killian?" She mouthed.

"Swan." He returned soundlessly. Emma smiled with relief.

"It's quite the crush this evening," Sir William remarked.

"Yes, it's uh…hot in here," Emma said, glancing around for an exit.

"If you're overheated, then you simply must see the gardens," Belle encouraged. "Horticulture is a beloved pastime of mine."

"I'd be happy to escort you, Miss Bennett," Killian offered gallantly.

Emma gave him a smile and at the last minute, remembered her curtsy. When she rose back up, it was obvious Killian was enjoying this entirely too much.

"Stifle it," she said, between her teeth as they made their way through the throng. "Is this scenario your idea? One corseted reality wasn't enough for you?"

"Don't blame me, love. This isn't my doing."

"Belle." Emma rolled her eyes. "Who else would drop us in the middle of 'Pride and Prejudice' but the town librarian."

"We're part of a book, I gather? Is that why we have different names?"

"A romance novel," Emma said, rolling her eyes. "I never read it. I watched the movie once though."

Killian reached out to put a hand to the small of her back and guide her through the crowd, but Emma stepped away. "You can't do that," she said under her breath. "This is Regency England. You shouldn't be touching me like that."

He looked at her askance. "You're serious."

"Yes, I am," she said. "And I should think you'd had your fill after that last scenario."

He gave her a confused look.

"The massage?" she prompted. "By the way, you weren't half-bad. Maybe you could open up a spa when we get back to Storybrooke."

He stopped in his tracks. "That was weeks ago."

She stopped and turned to face him. "That was minutes ago. One second you were talking to me about magic beans and the next thing I know, Belle is leading me up to be introduced to you."

"Emma, I've been here nearly six weeks, just waiting for you to arrive. And before that, I was hit by a harpoon and dragged behind my ship until I drowned."

"Drowned?"

"I'm getting bloody tired of being killed," he remarked, gesturing for her to precede him out the doorway. "When I landed here, the compass eventually led me to your manor house, but you've been away every time I've made an inquiry." He looked around, ascertaining that they were alone, and shuffled her off the path, through a clump of hedges and down toward the stables.

"Let's duck in here," he said. "The footmen and stable boys are all tending to the carriages in the drive. We won't be overheard."

"Good idea," Emma agreed, following him in, picking up her dress to keep it from dragging through the hay. Other than one lone horse that stood in its paddock, there was no one about.

"So once again, time is moving differently for each of us," Killian pointed out. "And that was the first time I've been without you. What about you?"

Emma leaned against the paddock door, tugging at her waistline in the hope of adjusting her corset. "I had a bunch before I first saw you - on a beach watching dolphins, playing basketball with Henry and Archie, back in my foster home except instead of chores we were required to perform in a circus and my foster parents were clowns-" she gave a delicate shudder. "I think there were more, but it's all so fuzzy."

Killian rubbed his beard, thinking. "Do you recall anything else? Any odd details? Rumpelstiltskin said that your subconscious mind knows where you are - or rather, where the sphere is. It will give you clues, but they may be subtle."

"Does he think he can reverse this? Get us out?"

Killian paused a moment, looking down. "Aye. He thinks if we can find the sphere, he can reverse its effect. Meanwhile, your father has everyone searching every corner of Storybrooke."

"And we're stuck here with the British gentry," Emma said with a sigh.

"Wait a moment...what do you mean 'British?'"

"We're in England." Emma said with a shrug.

"Wouldn't that make us English?"

"England is a part of Britain. We're both. You just fit in better than I do," she noted.

"Because I sound British."

She looked at him oddly. "What are you getting at?"

"You've told me that more than once. Over and over, in fact."

"You think it means something?" she reached out, squeezing his hand.

"I don't know, love. But it's the first solid clue we've had, unless you can think of something else."

"So now what?" Emma asked.

"Now we find Belle, and we try to give her the clue...very, very delicately - if you're sure it's her dream."

"Well, who else is here?"

"Everyone, unfortunately, with the exception of your parents and Henry." He said. "My good friend Mr. Bingley is none other than Robin Hood, and the village Vicar is - you're going to love this - Rumpelstiltskin."

Emma closed her eyes, willing herself to remember the damn movie. "So that means Belle is my friend, and my sisters are...?"

"Regina, Red, Ariel and Dr. Hopper in drag. Your mother is Granny. Your father is one of the assorted dwarves."

"What?" Emma's face screwed up.

I didn't write the damned dream," he pointed out.

"What the hell did Belle eat before bed?" Emma said crankily. She leaned back against a nearby beam. "Wait a minute - there's a another clue."

"What?"

"Archie. I was playing basketball with him in another dream."

Killian nodded slowly, then his head snapped up. "And when I was wounded and in the hospital with you...I recall someone trying to bring Pongo for a visit. You wouldn't let them bring the dog inside."

"That's right. I remember that. So we've got Archie and being British. Whatever that means." She pushed off the beam. "Well, we'd better go find Belle."

Killian stepped in front of her. "Why the rush?"

"Are you kidding? You know this dream can be over any time. If we need to communicate, we need to do it sooner rather than later."

He reached out, smoothing back an errant curl from her elaborately put up hairstyle. "I realize that, love. It's just..." he stepped in closer. "It's good to see you, Emma."

"I didn't even get a chance to miss you," she said. "My back feels wonderful, by the way."

His eyes gleamed in the pale light coming through the stable door. "All of you felt wonderful. Do you actually pay men to stroke your body?"

She gave him a look. "It's not like that. At least, it's usually not. And it's not always men, either."

His eyes widened. "Really?"

She punched him in the arm for that one. "Will you stay focused?"

"I am, love, I am." He pulled her into his arms, kissing her soundly, and it didn't take but a millisecond for Emma to respond, leaning in and parting her lips as he deepened the kiss. He finally let out a sigh and reluctantly pulled back.

"I was beginning to wonder if I'd have to wait years for you," he said in a quiet voice. "As the weeks went by, I grew more and more discouraged."

"And here you are," she said softly.

"And here _you_ are," he added. "Finally. And if we're torn apart again, I'll wait the weeks, the months, the _years_, if I have to."

She slid her arms up around his neck. "Killian..."

"Mr. Darcy!"

Rumpelstiltskin's voice echoed through the stable from where he stood framed in the doorway, holding a lantern. Unfortunately, he was far from alone. Behind him stood Belle, Granny, Regina and Archie, who clasped a beaded reticule to his chest with a fluttering hand. Emma eyed them all with a kind of comical horror, realizing that she must look like a brazen harlot to every one of them. In the context of Regency England, her reputation was ruined, compromised beyond repair.

Well, not entirely beyond repair. Never let it be said that Killian Jones didn't know how to think on his feet. Or on one knee.

"I'm so pleased to see you all," he said smoothly. "Miss Bennett has just agreed to become my wife."

Granny, Regina and Belle's jaws all dropped in unison, and Archie fainted dead away into Rumpelstiltskin's arms.

###

"Swift thinking," Emma said under her breath some time later after they'd been ushered inside and received everyone's congratulations. "Now you have to buy a ring."

"You should have read the book, love. I'm frightfully wealthy."

Emma raised her brows. "Oh." She glanced over at Regina, who was talking animatedly with Robin. "Aren't you supposed to be coming between those two?"

Killian looked over at them. "Whyever would I do that?"

"It's in the book. Or the movie, at least."

"I don't think we have to follow the rules so exactly. The dream is a framework. What we do from here is our business."

Emma made a hmmphing sound. "I guess you're right. Mr. Darcy certainly never compromised Miss Bennett in a stable."

"I was ready to compromise you during that damned massage," he said testily. "You were driving me to the edge of insanity."

"Sorry."

"I'd be happy to pick up where we left off, you know. Just say the word."

Emma groaned, leaning back a little. "I may take you up on that. Once I take this damn corset off, my ribs will need to be realigned."

He waggled his brows."I'd be happy to help you out of that corset, as well."

Emma shushed him. "Not in Regency England, you won't." She glanced over his shoulder, then raised her hand to wave. "There's Belle."

"Where?"

"Standing over there next to that old guy - the one who's ogling Regina."

Killian turned to look, but Belle had broken off, making her way toward them. She reached out, taking Emma's hands in hers.

"I'm so happy for you, Lizzie! I'd not even been aware that the two of you harbored much more than a tolerable indifference to each other."

"Yes, well...you know how we British are," Emma said brightly. "We like to...uh..._hop_ around with our emotions," she finished lamely. Killian gave her a sardonic look that made it clear she was awful at this.

"Why, I disagree," he said good-naturedly. "We British would never classify ourselves as hoppers of any sort. I certainly have never been a hopper, and I don't know many British who would own to such a thing."

Belle gave them an uncertain look. "No...I suppose not," she said.

"And while it's perfectly admirable to be British," Killian continued, "I've never visited anyplace with such charming people as I've found in Storybrooke."

Belle's eyes squinted a bit. "Storybrooke?"

"Surely you've heard of it?" Killian went on.

"You should hop over there sometime," Emma added, with an overly bright smile. Belle backed up a step.

"Lizzie, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Emma answered, waving her off. "I'm just...so glad to be British. Even though Storybrooke is great." She smiled again, a big, plastic smile. Belle took two more steps back.

"Wait..." she said, tilting her head at the two of them. "I've seen you together before." Belle put her hand to her forehead, rubbing it. Then she looked up from the book she'd been reading, and realized that she'd dozed off. She stretched, and stared over at Hook, still motionless on Regina's office couch. She'd agreed to watch over him tonight, but wasn't proving herself much of a watchman.

She got up, walking over to the window, doing her best to remember the fragments of her dream. Hadn't she seen them? It had been three days since the last dreamsighting of Hook and Emma, and now she remembered them. Something about being British, but they were...getting married in Storybrooke? She picked up her cell phone and dialed it, looking out the office window while she waited for Rumpel to pick up.

She nearly dropped the phone when she saw a face in the shadows, and she backed away from the window, running to the door to switch on the outside light on the front porch. She moved back into the office and looked again, but no one was there now. Belle couldn't get over the feeling that whoever it was wasn't gone. When she heard the phone pick up, she let out a breath in relief.

"Rumpel? You need to get over here - and bring David. I think I got a message, and there's someone out here, watching me." She looked over at Hook. "Watching _us._"


	11. Jane Doe

_**Hello readers, and thank you for reading (and reviewing - oh, I love my reviewers) my latest story! You know, I had originally planned to wrap this up neatly by next Sunday, in time for the S4 premiere, but there are so many scenarios I still want to run them through, and I don't want to rush them. What's your thought? Would you like this resolved by the premiere, or shall I let it ride?**_

_**As you can see, we've got a mystery in Storybrooke and a tilting, whirling universe of dreams to navigate. Thank you so much to those of you who've PM'd me scenarios you'd like to see - I am going to be using some of your excellent ideas. In the meantime, I'm also working hard on final edits of the third installment in my Sci-Fi erotica book series, The Seeder Saga (details in my author bio here, if you need them). Can I make a request of those of you who've bought the books? If you haven't done so, can you head to the Smashwords page (or GoodReads, if you're on that) and drop a review there and please, be honest. And if you don't want to buy the book, I have a free short story on there as well - reviews on any of these would be greatly appreciated!**_

_**But enough about me. You want to get back to our duo, and we want them to get back to each other, so here we go...**_

* * *

><p>"I still think I'd rather have him at our apartment," David said, looking down at Hook. Belle straightened the blanket over him, while Gold pulled the curtain closed between the back room and the shop.<p>

"He's perfectly safe here," Gold said. "If I'd wanted to harm the good captain, I'd have succeeded long ago."

"You can't put Snow or the baby in danger," Belle reminded David. "If someone's out to hurt him, he'll be better protected here than anywhere else."

"Who would want to stop him?" David asked. "Is there anybody in town with a grudge against Emma?"

Regina leaned back against a table. "If there were anyone answering that description, it would be me," Regina said. "And I certainly wouldn't create all this drama for myself. If I wanted to stop Hook, I could have killed him anytime."

"None of this makes sense," David mused. He turned to look at Belle. "So you think you got a message?"

"I _think_ so," she said. "I never realized before how very hard it is to remember the details of a dream when you're really trying to."

"Just start with what you remember," Regina said. "Maybe if you talk about it, more will come to you."

David pulled out a chair and Belle took a seat, pulling at the material of her skirt as she racked her brain to remember. "I was in 'Pride and Prejudice,' she said.

"The book?" David queried.

"Yes. We were all there, as were Emma and Hook. They were..." Belle put a hand to her forehead, clenching her eyes tight. "They were found in a compromising state by all of us."

"They _what_?" David raised his voice.

"Calm down, Daddy," Regina deadpanned. "It's a _dream_, remember?"

"Why are you dreaming about Hook and Emma doing...compromising things?"

"As much as I like a scandalous tale," Gold said dryly, "I'll remind you that in Regency England, that could have been something as simple as touching a woman's ungloved hand. The British were a trifle high-strung when it came to virginity back then."

"The British..." Belle said, nodding slowly. "That was the word. They kept using it over and over. And they talked about Storybrooke."

"British?" David looked at Regina, who gave a shrug. "What do we have in Storybrooke that's British?"

"Books?" Belle suggested. "Maybe that's why they chose me to talk to."

"Do we have any British books?" Regina asked.

"We have loads of books by British authors," she answered. "How do we narrow it down?"

"Are they all in a certain section?" David asked. "Maybe the sphere is on a shelf next to them or something."

Bells shook her head. "No, they're filed alphabetically, all over the library."

"And a sphere on a shelf in a library would stand out," Gold reminded them. "The nature of the sphere is to blend in to avoid detection."

"There was more," Belle said, tapping a finger to her chin as she remembered. "Hook proposed and then -"

"Wait - he _proposed_?" David said.

"What part of 'dream" are you still unclear on?" Regina asked.

"Emma was talking about...rabbits?" Belle said, shaking her head. "No, that's not right. Something about hopping. She wanted to hop." Belle looked up. "I know that sounds crazy."

"Dreams don't always flow with logic," Gold reminded her. "In addition, the dream is only a guideline for the two of them. They're moving independently within it."

"Anything else?" David asked.

"I...uh...she and I talked about ribbons," Belle offered. "And...nothing else that I can think of. That relates to them, I mean."

"Something British, hopping and ribbons," Regina said. "What the hell do we make of that?"

"I don't know," David said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Listen, it's late. Let's all just go home and sleep on it. Maybe something will come to us, or we'll get another clue."

Regina pushed her hair off her face. "If some strange lurker in the shadows doesn't wake us first."

###

"You can't really go in and question her," Dr. Whale said, making some notes on his flipchart. "Jane Doe is still unresponsive. There were no personal effects beyond her clothes, which are down in storage in the basement."

"Maybe you could find something there?" Snow suggested helpfully. "I mean, if there was nothing in her pockets, there might still be clues on the clothing itself. Blood or strange-colored dirt or something."

Regina raised a brow. "You watch too many crime shows."

"What do you think, Emma?" Snow asked, nudging her.

Emma glanced around the hospital, really having a hard time acclimating this time as she'd just been tumbling end-over-end after falling over a cliff, escaping a mountain lion. She took a deep breath.

"Uh...she's right. We should check that out." She glanced through the glass doors to the private room, but she didn't recognize the woman. They were all staring at her, so she'd better just play along. "I'll go do that, then," she said awkwardly, heading for the stairway.

She stepped down into the basement, finding no one at the desk to help her. It was incredibly dark and more than a little dank. Emma's nose curled with the smell of strong disinfectant and something...just putrid smelling. She made a quick search of the nurse's desk, but found no records or storage boxes there or on the shelves behind it, so she moved off down the hallway, noting the doors as she passed. She paused to look in the small observation slot of one, only to have a pair of wild eyes meet hers as the door boomed and shuddered from a serious of blows administered from the other side.

Emma jumped back with a stifled shriek, caught her breath and moved on. She'd only gotten two more steps when she heard his shout. "Swan!"

She stopped dead in her tracks, looking around frantically until she saw his fingertips protruding from an observation slot a few doors down. She raced over to him.

"Killian!"

"Swan - thank God! I've been in here for days without any food or water. I don't think they even know I'm here!"

"Hold on...I'm going to get you out." She ran back to the nurse's desk, and found the keys hanging on a hook on the underside of the desk. She raced back, fitting the keys into the lock one-by-one until she found the right one. The tumblers clicked and she pulled the door open wide.

Killian squinted as the light from the outside hall hit his eyes, and she took in the sight of his filthy hospital gown, the smell coming off the cell, and then she let out a startled sound as a rat exited the cell by running over her foot.

"Oh my God! Killian!" She reached out to steady him with an arm around his shoulders.

"Please...can we find some water?" he asked hoarsely.

"Right over here - " she walked him toward a tiled alcove at the end of the hall with a shower mounted on the wall. "Here," she said, "You wash up and drink up - I'll go find you some clothes."

She turned on the water, and pushed him under it, helping him drink by cupping her hands for him. He let out a sigh.

"Oh, you've no idea how good that tastes. And feels." He glanced over at her, somehow managing to pull off a lopsided grin. "Are you going to strip me down?"

Emma let out a sigh of relief. "You're okay. Let me go get you something clean to wear. There's soap on the ledge behind you."

She continued down the hallway, finally finding the room with the boxes of personal effects. She dug through a few until she found some clothes that looked like they'd fit, then belatedly grabbed the box marked "Jane Doe" before heading back down the hall to Killian.

Stark naked Killian.

She turned around quickly, shaking her head as she heard him chuckle.

"I'd apologize, love, but it feels too bloody good to be clean again," he said, taking the clothing from her outstretched hand. "Is there any chance you found some food in there?"

"No, but we're in the hospital. We can find you something upstairs."

"Whose dream are we in? Who the hell had me locked down here?"

Emma shook her head. "I'm not sure. I've seen Whale, Regina and Snow. And Jane Doe."

"Jane Doe?" He moved up beside her, toweling his hair off. The clothes weren't an exact fit, but somehow, he made an oversized tee shirt and baggy sweatpants look sexy.

"She's upstairs in David's spot," Emma remarked. "When I first came to Storybrooke, David was in a coma - he'd been lying there for twenty-eight years."

Killian raised his brows. "Leave it to Regina to go all-out for revenge. That's bloody awful."

"Come on. Let's get you fed." She led him over to the stairway. "Are you okay to walk?"

He gave her another lopsided grin. "You can put your arm around me, if you'd like."

She rolled her eyes, but slipped an arm around him anyway. "Once we're upstairs, we can get you some food and then try to figure out whose dream we're in."

Once they hit the main floor, Emma made a short detour down the hallway to the hospital cafeteria, where she watched Killian wolf down a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon and hashbrowns, along with two glasses of juice and a bottle of water. They walked back down the hallway to the waiting area outside the private room, where Regina stood talking to Whale, who was giving directions to an orderly.

"She can't be moved," Whale directed. "She's stable, but I don't want to jeopardize that."

The orderly nodded. "What about feeding?"

"I'll have a nurse come in and run a line."

"Which will be completely useless," Regina pointed out. "She's under a sleeping curse."

"Wait - a sleeping curse?" Emma said, coming up behind them. "She's not in a coma?"

"I think I know a sleeping curse when I see one," Regina pointed out. "And I've sent Ms. Blanchard to make a call to her next of kin."

Emma shot a confused look at Killian, then looked back to Regina. "You just sent me to look for clues and now she's got a next of kin?"

"Perhaps we should go through that box, Swan." Killian said. "See if there are any clues we can use. We're definitely looking for _clues._" He said the word with appropriate weight. They were looking for clues and this might give them some more insight.

"I don't even know who this girl is," Emma said under her breath, gesturing towards the glass door. "Does she look familiar to you?"

Killian followed Emma's hand, and when he saw the woman on the bed, he stopped breathing.

"Killian?" Emma noted his expression instantly, even though she wasn't quite sure what was going on. "You know her?"

He moved toward the door as if in a trance, his eyes wide with disbelief as his lips formed the syllables almost soundlessly.

"Milah?"

Emma registered the name a moment later, and she followed behind him as he opened the door, unsure of what he was going to do.

"How...?" his voice was a broken thing, barely registering. He stepped closer to the bed, reaching out a shaking hand to touch her hair.

"Milah," he whispered.

Emma stared down at her, not surprised to see that she was beautiful. She felt like an intruder here.

"I'll just...uh...wait outside." She moved back toward the door, but he didn't even acknowledge her. He was reaching down, stroking the hair off Milah's face gently. The look on Killian's face made Emma feel hollow deep inside. Just as she reached for the door, it flew open.

"Where is she?" Gold asked. "Where's Milah?"

Killian slowly straightened up, his eyes narrowing and locking on Gold. "You've no business here."

"What are you doing here?" he said incredulously. He turned to the orderly. "Get him out of here."

"If it's a sleeping curse, you can't wake her," Killian taunted. "She has to love you in return. Isn't that how it works?"

Emma wasn't sure what was going on here, but she knew it was time to go.

"Killian. Killian!" She repeated his name until he looked at her. "What are you doing?" She gave him a warning look. "We have _work_ to do here."

"Stay out of this, Swan."

She looked as though he'd struck her. "Killian. This isn't your doing. You know why we're really here." She tried to remind him as vaguely as possible.

"He thought that locking me away somewhere would keep me from seeing her," Killian spat out, gesturing at Gold. "How the hell do you think I ended up in the basement? He's the one who had me in there! I would have died there, as well!"

Gold gathered himself up, leaning both hands on his cane. "So that's it, then. You wake Milah and then...what happens to Miss Swan?"

Killian flushed, his eyes dropping to the floor. He was breathing hard, and his hand was curled into a fist.

"Let's go," Emma said softly. "You can't really think straight here."

"If someone is under a sleeping curse, they don't really belong here," said the orderly firmly.

Killian looked over at the man. "So you're just going to lock her away somewhere? Kill her?"

"She deserves it," Gold replied. "For what she's done."

"I cannot stress enough the protocols here," the orderly repeated, talking over the two of them.

"Wait a minute," Emma said, breaking in. "Don't I know you?" She looked over at the orderly, tipping her head to the side.

Killian looked from the orderly to Emma, then back again. "You're right. I know this man. He's - "

He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence. The man shouted "Stop! Get back!" and began backing himself into a corner, where he ripped open his hospital jacket, revealing a vest full of dynamite strapped to his body. He looked over at Regina, then he mouthed, "I'm sorry."

And then he detonated, killing them all.


	12. Lost Girl

Killian rolled over, feeling the heat of the sun on his face. He could hear the waves and birdsong off in the distance. The planks of the deck were hard against his face. He put out his hand, tracing the grooves and grain of each one he could reach. He'd know this deck anywhere.

He was aboard the Jolly, that much was certain. But where? He pushed himself up to his knees, then his feet, and took a look around, staggering slightly on the steeply tilted deck. The ship was aground, and from the looks of it, on a coastline somewhere. He pulled himself up to the hatch opening, slinging a leg over and peering down inside. There was no one there. He called out a few times, then pulled himself over to the stairwell for the crew cabin and peered in there as well.

He was alone. Apparently the only one shipwrecked was him. He found a line and lowered himself over the side of the ship, into the shallow water on the beach, surveying the damage as he went down. The hull had been badly breached in three separate places; one of them was so extensive as to have cracked the keel. He stood with his hands on his hips, shaking his head and clucking his tongue. It was a sad state, seeing his ship like this. It damn near brought him to tears.

He let out a heavy sigh and reached into his pocket for the compass. The needle swung in a wide arc, coming to rest with a trajectory straight into the jungle. He reached down, pulling out his cutlass, and started walking.

His mind replayed the last moments of their previous encounter, and his jaw tightened at the memory of it.

Milah.

She'd looked just like he'd remembered her, and he wasn't prepared for what the sight of her would do to him. It had been centuries, after all. Her memory had faded a bit, gotten rough around the edges. To see her laying there, so perfect in repose - it was just...overwhelming. He felt a stab of guilt at the memory of Emma, trying to get him back on track. He'd let the anger rip through him at the sight of Rumpelstiltskin coming in right on top of seeing her, but he couldn't help it. All the helpless rage rushed again to the forefront, and he wanted, oh how he'd wanted to hurt him.

Why was Rumpelstiltskin still dreaming of Milah? He'd lost her long ago, and by her design, not through the act of another. As much as Rumpelstiltskin wanted to lay Milah's abandonment at his feet, he wouldn't claim responsibility for it. She'd made her decision, seeking him out and begging him to take her along. And then when given the chance, he'd refused to fight for her. Pathetic.

Killian stopped once more to get his bearings, realizing from the position of the sun that he'd been walking and hacking through jungle for hours, and he was badly in need of water. He'd seen no sign of a stream or any water source yet. He ran a hand across the sweat on his forehead, and reached down to pull the compass out of his pocket again. He lowered his head to check out his bearing, and the world went black.

###

He awoke several hours later, but kept still, parting his eyelids just slightly so that he could peer between the lashes. He could make out a shadowy figure, moving near the light of a fire, and from the feel of it, he was laying on the ground. He'd been bound up at the elbows behind him, and his ankles were bound as well. He could move his fingers, though, and if he shifted just right, he should be able to reach the dagger he kept in his boot.

He slowly moved to pull his knees up, but her voice stopped him.

"Don't even think about it," Emma said. "I already took the knife in your boot."

Killian's eyes snapped open. "Emma!"

She stepped back, pulling a gun from the back of her waistband and training it on him.

"How do you know my name?" she asked. "How!"

"Put the gun away, love," he said carefully. "I'm bound up - I'm no threat to you."

"Answer the question." The gun didn't waver.

"I came here to find you. I'm Killian."

She stepped closer, and he could see her face in the firelight now. Her eyes were full of distrust, but there was a flicker of something else there. Recognition?

"Emma..."

"You'd better start talking," she said. "Who sent you? Was it them? Where's Henry?"

A frown creased his brow. "Something's happened to Henry?"

"You're not even going to pretend that you don't know him? Or me?" Emma said. "Now why did they send you after me?"

Killian took in a deep breath. This one was going to be difficult - he could see that.

"May I sit up?" he asked. Emma stepped forward carefully, reaching out to yank him up by the arm until he was sitting.

"You're up," she said. "Now talk."

"I came to this place on my ship, The Jolly Roger. Perhaps you've heard of it?"

"Nope." She held his eyes. "Go on."

"I traveled from a place called Storybrooke."

Emma's eyes widened. "That's impossible," she whispered.

"It's not. I'm telling you the truth and you know it."

"I am the sheriff of Storybrooke," Emma said. "I know everyone in town."

"I didn't say I was a native. I just came from there. I'd been having a picnic on the deck of my ship -"

"A picnic?" she lowered the gun slightly. "What the hell does that have to do with how you got here?"

"It started raining, so I looked for an umbrella," he went on.

"I really don't need the whole backstory," Emma said, waving the gun impatiently. "I know you're one of them." She sat down on a rock across from him.

"Them?"

"The others."

"The others. Right." Killian took a breath, trying another tack. "I'm not meant to be here any more than you are, Emma," he said. "In fact -"

"The umbrella-" Emma interrupted. "What color was it?"

"The umbrella?"

"The one you looked for. What color was it?"

"Blue. It was blue and entirely too frilly for the likes of you." He watched her carefully.

"It was in a trunk," she said, nodding slowly. "You gave it to me."

"That's right, love."

"Killian."

"Yes, that's right. You're remembering." He encouraged. "Keep going."

"I'm dreaming."

"Yes," he said carefully. He glanced around, unable to help himself. The last time she'd remembered she was dreaming, it brought the whole dream to an abrupt end. She seemed to be processing it all, and so far, they were still here.

"You're dreaming, and I'm visiting you here," he said. "And it makes sense, doesn't it?"

Emma ran a hand through her hair. "Nothing makes sense in this place."

"Can you untie me?" Killian asked. "We can talk this through."

She looked at him distrustfully. "Tell me something only Killian would know."

"You once tortured me in a hospital bed, and we climbed a beanstalk together," he said. "To get a compass."

Emma reached into her pocket, pulling the compass out. "This compass," she said, holding it up and looking at it. "I remember now. All of it."

"Where were you last?" he asked her.

"Last?" She closed her eyes. "Before here, you mean?"

Killian nodded, giving a little grimace as he tried to get more comfortable. Emma jumped up from where she'd been sitting and slashed through his bonds with a knife.

"Sorry," she said, taking her seat back on the rock. "You can't be too careful, here. This place can make you crazy."

Killian shook his hand out, stretching his arms and legs. "Go on, Swan. Tell me what's happened since I last saw you - which, for me, was in the hospital in Storybrooke. You?"

She held his eyes a moment, then looked away. "Yeah. Same thing."

He grimaced. "I was afraid of that."

"Where have you been since then?" Emma asked. "Were you thrown onto your ship, or what?"

"I just woke up on board a few hours ago. I checked the compass, then made my way inland to find you," he answered.

"You just got here?"

"Yes." Killian looked around. "Are you all alone here? Have you been able to determine where we are?"

Emma leaned her head back, looking up, and Killian realized they were in a cave. There were odds and ends scattered around - blankets and tools, and a stack of fruit and dried fish in one corner.

"We're on an island," Emma said. "Henry and I were aboard a plane, flying from Boston to a week-long vacation in the Caribbean. The plane went down and crashed here. There were forty-six survivors originally - but now there's just me."

"Just you?" Killian's eyes widened. "Where's Henry?"

"They took him," she said numbly. "Thirty-eight days after we crashed. They came, and they took him. I haven't seen him since."

Killian sat forward. "They? Who are _they?_"

"The others. I don't know any more than that. They come out of the jungle, and they've been picking us off since we got here. I'm still alive because I keep moving."

Killian rolled up to his knees, reaching out to touch her, but Emma shied away. He pulled his hand back slowly.

"How long?" he asked. "How long have you been here, Emma?"

Her voice was flat, and so were her eyes.

"Five and a half months."

###

"Don't eat those," Emma said, grabbing the berries out of Killian's hand. She threw them onto the ground. "They're poison. Steve found out the hard way."

"Who's Steve?" Killian asked.

She ran a tired hand over her face. "Oh, you're right. It was Scott. Steve got pulled off the beach by the monster."

"The thing from the bushes?"

"Yeah." She moved ahead on the path, stopping to orient herself for a moment. "We should be able to make it to the far side of that peak," she pointed off toward a sharp peak on the mountain that stood in the center of the island, "By nightfall. There's an underground bunker there that's deserted. Or at least, it was."

"You think the 'others' might have gone back to it?"

"I don't know." She reached into her pack, pulling out a water bottle and drinking deeply from it. Her hand shook slightly as she re-screwed the cap. Killian stepped closer.

"Emma, let's rest here a while. You've been pushing yourself like mad all day."

"We need to get to shelter before nightfall," she said. "We can't afford to take a break."

He reached out for her pack. "Then let me carry this," he said.

Emma stepped back, swatting his hand away. "Stop. I don't have time for this. Let's go."

He watched her walk ahead and let out a gust of air in exasperation. It had been three days since he'd found her, and this was as much headway as he'd made. She remembered everything, but she wasn't talking. He wondered if she only half-believed him still. She'd been on the island for months, and clearly, she'd been traumatized, but this was her own dream. How did one go about waking up from one's own dream? They needed to get out of here, and get more information back to Storybrooke, but every time he broached the subject, she balked. It was frustrating in the extreme.

They made it to the bunker an hour later, and Emma insisted on going in first, since she had the gun. Killian kept watch outside, hoping they didn't have a repeat of the previous day. They'd been walking along the banks of a stream, trying to stay close to a water source as they made their way toward the peak, when all of a sudden, the treetops had started shaking. Emma yanked him into the dirt, pulling him until they'd concealed themselves in the mud under an overhang of rock near the stream. They waited there in silence for well over an hour until the sounds of the beast were gone. She hadn't given him more than a half-dozen words since.

"It's clear," she called out. "Be sure and pull those vines over the door before you close it."

Killian did as she asked, then made his way down a short, dark hall that opened into a larger room. There was a bed on one side, and a shelf with books above it.

"There's only one bed," she said, not even looking at him as she sifted through the things in her pack. "You can have it. I'm going to go take a shower."

"You take the bed," he insisted. "There's a shower here?"

"Yeah. And a kitchen, over there." She pointed off down the hallway. "You can find food in the pantry. Help yourself."

"Emma." His voice stopped her, but she didn't turn around.

"We need to talk," he said quietly.

"Not now."

"Let's have a shower and some food and then-"

"Not tonight, Killian."

"Emma - "

She finally turned. "I can't. Not yet. Please, I just..." she shook her head, and tears formed in her eyes. "I need some time."

Killian gave her a nod, and his jaw tightened as he watched her go.

###

"How long are you going to lay there awake?" he asked.

Emma gave a start as Killian's voice broke the silence. It was dark as a tomb in the bunker. How had he seen that she was still awake?

"I'm not tired."

"Emma, you're exhausted. You need to sleep."

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not." he sat up. "I can take watch, if you're worried. You're not doing us any good if you're dead on your feet."

"Stop."

"Emma..."

"Just stop, Killian. I mean it."

"Stop what, exactly?" he asked, raising his voice in pure frustration. "I haven't done anything. We haven't discussed anything. We've made absolutely no headway of any kind from the moment I've found you. Tell me what it is you're running from and maybe, just maybe, I can help!"

He heard her get out of bed, and a moment later, a light hummed to life. He scrambled to his feet as he watched her stuffing items in her pack.

"What the devil do you think you're doing?"

"I'm getting out of here." She kept packing, not even looking at him.

"Without me?"

"You'll be safe enough in here," she said. "There's plenty of food - it'll last you years if you ration it well. Maybe the dream will end before then."

"And if it doesn't?" he asked. "We just live on opposite sides of the island from each other? Or would it be easier for you if I just let that invisible beast take me, like it has everyone else?"

Her head snapped around. "Don't say that."

"You're not going," he said, reaching out and grabbing her pack. She tried to yank it from him, but he held tight. They tussled for a moment and she got even angrier.

"Let me go!"

He threw the pack down, grabbing her by the shoulders.

"What is this about, Swan? Really? What is it really about? Tell me! You owe me that much."

She made another feeble attempt to get away, but he held her fast.

"Tell me."

"I just...I think it's probably better if I go my own way." She still wouldn't look at him, and it was really making him angry now.

"Go your own way. Here? On this bloody island? Or from now on as well - in all the scenarios we visit?"

"What if this one never ends?" she said, and the fear was apparent in her eyes. "It's been nearly six months. Day in and day out sleeping with one eye open, fighting to stay alive, trying to find Henry. And then you show up, reminding me that this could all just start over again somewhere else. And with other people in the mix."

He stared at her a long moment. "This is about Milah," he said quietly. "Emma, you have to know I wasn't prepared for that-"

"Yeah, neither was I. I wasn't prepared for the one woman you loved to show up. And it only took a split second of her influence to turn you and Gold back into mortal enemies."

"I was...distracted," he said. "To see her there after all these years...and having just been starved and imprisoned - it was clearly Rumpelstiltskin's dream and I just...reacted."

Emma stepped back. "It was a long time ago. Maybe not for you, but for me. And I've had nothing to do but think for months now. Maybe the reason I'm stuck here is because I want to be. Maybe deep down inside, my subconscious knows I'm better off alone - even in a dream world."

"I wasn't going to wake her," he said. "I realized it was only a dream. I'd just decided to leave with you when all hell broke loose."

"If it hadn't been a dream, would you have stayed?" Emma's chin came up.

"That's a foolish question. It _was_ a dream. Milah is dead. Long dead."

"I saw how you looked at her. You'll never be over her, Killian."

"Listen to me, Emma..."

"I'm going."

"No! Dammit, you listen to me!" He gave her a tiny shake. "I loved her. I'll not deny that. She was all I had besides a ship in this world, and when she was taken from me, I let my anger and my pain take the parts of my heart that she used to hold. I will never be over some of that - never be able to forget some of that pain. It's a part of me now. But I can choose to stay in that, to live in that and writhe in it every day, letting it feed my bloodlust and harden my heart, or I can choose to let somebody in - somebody who barges in and demands that I remember who I once was, back when I was capable of love."

He reached up, cupping her face, sliding his thumb along her jawline. "I let you in, love, and nothing's been the same. I won't forget my love for Milah, just as you won't forget your love for Neal. They're a part of who we are. And now you're a part of me, and I won't let that go. I can't."

Emma closed her eyes. "I've been so afraid," she whispered. "At first I thought rescue would come any day, but then it didn't, and they took Henry and I was the only one left. And when you showed up...it just brought it all back. All the uncertainty. All the doubt, hitting me head-on. And I was so angry at you for not getting here sooner, even though I know you can't help that."

He pulled her into his arms and she went willingly as he held her tightly against him. "Emma..." he kissed the top of her head. "I'm sorry, love. I'm sorry."

She shook her head against him. "Not your fault," she mumbled.

"I know, but I'm sorry all the same."

"I'm afraid to go to sleep," she said softly.

He leaned back, wiping her tears with his fingers. "Why?"

"What happens if I sleep now? What if it ends the dream?"

"Then it ends," he said. "And I find you again." He stroked her hair. "I'll always find you, love. You mustn't give up hope again."

Emma reached up, sliding her hands around his neck. "I don't want you to go. Stay with me, Killian. Even if it's just for tonight."

She leaned up, placing her lips gently against his, sinking into him, feeling all the relief and exhaustion of the last few days catch up with her, making her boneless, melting her into his strength and the feel of his body against hers. She honestly thought her legs were going to give out as the kiss went on and on, but he broke it off, leaning down to swing her up into his arms and carry her over to the bed, where he laid her down and then joined her.

She tugged at his clothes with an almost feral desperation, and he reciprocated, pulling her shirt over her head and devouring her breasts, pushing them up as he bathed them with the heat of his mouth, pulling at her nipples and running his hand over the rest of her until there was nothing between them anymore. He rolled her beneath him, and her hands tangled in his hair with punishing force, while her legs wrapped around him, pulling him in, begging him with her words between frantic kisses and her body as it arched against him until he couldn't bear it anymore. He slid into her with groan, feeling her nails dig into his shoulders, glad of the light she'd left on that let him see her face as her head tipped back on the pillow.

There was nothing slow or gentle about it. This was pure instinct, raw and frantic defiance of death - two people reaching for each other out of need and hunger and a thousand other emotions that neither one could dare to give a name to yet. He rode her with a force and rhythm that stole the breath from her, making her gasp and moan until she tightened around him. She cried out as the pleasure overtook her, pulling him into the maelstrom soon after as he ground against her, pinning her hard into the bedding and leaving her whimpering as he drained himself into her.

Her legs slackened and slid off him and he rolled a bit clumsily to the side, still trying to get his breath.

"Are you all right, love?" he asked, kissing her forehead gently. "Emma?"

He looked down at her in concern, but she only curled into his side drowsily. "I'm gonna sleep like a baby," she mumbled.

She slept sixteen hours, and then the hatch door flew open, and blackness took them both.


	13. In And Out

"We've been over it again and again," Regina said, stirring her coffee. "Britain, hopping, ribbons...it's making no sense."

"We've found four people that had items with a British flag on them in their homes, but no luck there," David said. "Hopping could be alluding to rabbits, and The Rabbit Hole has a selection of British ales on tap - we checked the place top to bottom and still nothing. I don't even know where to start with ribbons," he finished, with a touch of exasperation.

"Belle," Snow said, rocking the baby back and forth in his car seat. "Is there anything else? Anything at all?"

Belle got up, pacing around Regina's office while she thought. "Ribbons might be nothing. Emma and I were discussing them, but only in passing - and Hook wasn't there for that."

"That still leaves something British and something hopping," Henry said, writing it down in his notebook. "Are you sure they said 'hopping'? Were they actually talking about rabbits?"

"No," Belle answered him. "We weren't discussing rabbits at all. Emma just kept talking about how she liked to hop and Killian claimed he wasn't a hopper. It was quite nonsensical, really."

"Wait - a hopper! Dr. Hopper? Are they talking about Archie?" David asked.

Belle's eyes went wide. "He was in the dream!"

"So we need to search Dr. Hopper's office," Regina said. "Let's go."

"Where does Britain come into play, I wonder?" Belle mused. "They were clearly putting the two words together. "British" and "Hopper."

"What about Cricket?" Henry said, sitting up in his chair. "It's a game. A British game."

"Henry!" Snow exclaimed. "That's brilliant!"

"I can look in the library," Belle said. "There may be an instructional book about cricket."

David nodded. "Snow and I can put the word out around town - maybe somebody has an old cricket set in their closet or something."

"It_ is_ played with balls," Henry said. "Wooden ones."

"And we should search Archie's office, just to be safe," Snow added.

"I'll stay here and keep working on a tracing spell," Regina offered. "I can't track the sphere directly - it resists that, but I can track things my mother may have touched. That'll cover quite a lot, since she was in town, but if it works, it may narrow our search down a bit."

"Sounds like a plan," David agreed. "So...we'll meet back here tomorrow, if nothing shows up tonight."

"Nothing?" Belle asked. "Or no one?"

###

Mr. Gold's opened his eyes slowly, with an odd sort of calm, considering he'd just been blown to bits a split-second ago. He passed a hand across his eyes, then he looked over at Hook, still and unmoving despite his exertions in the dreamscape. It would be easy, so very, very easy to put a pillow over his face, or even just a hand to block his mouth and nostrils. He'd be trapped forever in that God-forsaken land of madness, and it wouldn't pose a single threat to Emma.

He knew the pirate too well. Even the sight of Milah hadn't entirely broken that resolve. The pirate was determined to save his love and he would do it, even at the risk of his own life and happiness. The centuries, it seemed, had taught them both the folly of a self-centered existence, and only through the sloughing off of that slimy and foul-smelling skin of their former lives had either of them been able to find a piece of happiness.

But did the pirate deserve it?

Probably not.

He let out a sigh. Unfortunately, he knew Miss Swan nearly as well as the pirate. Once she got out - and Hook would see to it that she did - she would make it her mission to find out what went wrong and who was responsible. There might be another force at work that could serve his ends, but his failure to protect the man would not be the cause of it.

Still...something wasn't right. It didn't feel right. Who would want the pirate gone, besides himself? Who would want to trap Emma in the dreamscape, and why?

Too many factors, too much going on. It was ever the way with his gift of sight. Until it started to shift and trickle a bit more, he couldn't be entirely sure of the next move.

Or whether the move might serve his purposes.

###

"This is ridiculous!" Emma screamed, trying to be heard above the sound of the crashing waves. "How the hell are we riding dolphins?" She batted her hand at the colorful, tropical fish that were jumping in the waters all around them.

"Let your hair down, Swan!" Killian shouted back. "Don't tell me you've never wished you could do this?"

"Maybe they don't like this!" She answered, taking in a deep breath before her dolphin plunged under the waves, then letting it out when he resurfaced. She wiped the water out of her eyes, nearly losing her hold on the reins. "They're supposed to be smarter than humans, you know."

"Oh, we definitely are," Killian's dolphin replied, with a wink. "Why do you think we're leading you right into a trap?"

Emma screamed as the nets came down, but Killian was laughing and laughing and laughing...

###

The music was pounding, reverberating so loudly that it was shaking the doors as Emma pushed her way inside. She'd made it part-way to the bar when a hand gripped her arm, turning her around.

"Swan?" He raised his voice to a shout in order to be heard over the music.

"Killian!" She gripped his hand, pulling him along. "C'mon - as long as we're here, we might as well get a drink. I could use one."

"Excellent thinking!" he agreed, smiling at the feel of her hand in his, and devilishly wondering what it would hurt if she were to get a little...tipsy. He elbowed his way into a space next to her, signalling the bartender - who happened to be Anton - to set them up for a round. Emma was just leaning in to talk to him when a familiar voice carried over a lull in the music.

"Hi beautiful. You come here often?"

Emma froze, her face a mask of comical horror as she slowly turned and faced an oblivious David.

"You don't remember me?" she asked, eyebrows raised to her hairline.

David gave her an annoyed look. "I wasn't talking to _you,_ honey." His eyes shifted to Killian, and he winked.

"Who the hell's dream is _this_?" Killian thundered. Emma's jaw dropped as she took in the bare skin and leather and sequins everywhere.

"We're in a gay bar," she said in disbelief.

"No kidding, sweetheart," David said sarcastically. "When are you going to introduce me to your friend?"

"Uh...he's not..." Emma sputtered. "He's..."

"You're wasting your time," said a shirtless, oiled-up Leroy with a serious load on. He was leading a tiger on a leash, and his chest was painted in glitter. He threw a careless arm around David's shoulders, leaning in to whisper in his ear. "You know...once you go dwarf...you never go back."

"Whose dream_ is _this?" Killian repeated again incredulously.

"C'mon," Emma laughed, pulling him to the door, but the door turned into a guillotine, and she never got to show him the place with the fabulous cheesecake pizza.

###

"So why do you think you spent all that time in Neverland?" Archie chewed thoughtfully on his pen as Killian stared down at the pattern on the tufted couch beneath him. He'd been sitting here for the better part of an hour, trying to find a way out of this, but he was getting nowhere.

"It's not like it was a choice, you know."

"I can understand why you'd feel that way," Archie said reasonably. "Sometimes, the pressure we perceive from outside influences can overwhelm us, and cause us to make choices that aren't always in our best interests."

"So you think I went to Neverland...for what? To hide?" Killian looked at him incredulously.

"What do you think?"

"Does it matter what I think? We're paying you, aren't we? What are you trying to get at?"

Killian was getting perturbed again, a state he'd been in pretty much within moments of his arrival. But dammit, Emma wanted him here so here he was.

Archie leaned forward with a concerned look on his face. "Not everyone is trying to take something from you, Killian. Sometimes, you have to be open to letting someone give to you."

"Open? I've bloody well been as open as I can be when it comes to that woman." He crossed his arms, sitting back in a huff. Archie pushed his glasses up on his nose.

"Is that why you're here? Because Emma thinks you've been open and honest with her? About everything? Every bad thing that you don't want to come to light?"

Killian stared down at the floor darkly. "You know bloody well why she made me come here."

"Made you?"

"Asked me," he snarled. "She asked me to come here."

"But why the hostile language?" Archie asked, crossing his legs. "Are you feeling some resentment about Emma's attempts to salvage your relationship?"

Killian sat up slowly. "Is that what she said to you? That it needed to be salvaged?" he couldn't keep the pain out of his voice, or his eyes.

"At least she's concerned enough to try," Archie pointed out. He was about to make another observation, when a knock sounded at the door. "One moment, please," he called out. He turned to Killian apologetically. "I'm afraid we'll have to continue tomorrow."

Killian's eyes brightened as he looked at the door. "Is that Henry? Did Emma bring him?"

Archie looked uncomfortable. "Regina agreed to bring him - but his appointment is after this client. Emma didn't want to take a chance on running into you."

Killian bit his lip, trying to keep his eyes from filling up. They did anyway.

"Do I bother coming back tomorrow?" he asked Archie.

"That depends on what you're willing to talk about. Not just with me, Killian. But with Emma."

"She'll hate me if she knows all I've done," Killian answered bleakly.

"Probably. But you can't run from this." Archie walked over to the door, opening it. A very disgruntled man stood outside, tapping a foot impatiently.

"It's about time," the man said, glancing over at Killian. His eyes flared, and then narrowed angrily. "You shouldn't be here."

"I'll see you tomorrow," Archie said, holding the door.

Killian stepped through the door, giving the man outside an unfriendly look that he returned wholeheartedly. He turned suddenly.

"Wait a minute..." he said, reaching out to keep Archie from closing the door behind the man. "You're - "

Archie jumped back as the man drew a gun, and shot Killian point-blank in the head.

###

"Really?" Emma looked around as she treaded water. She seemed to be out in the open ocean, and this time there wasn't a dolphin in sight. She felt a shadow come between her and the brilliant sunlight, and she turned to see the Jolly Roger sliding past behind her, with Killian at the helm.

"Wait! Wait, Killian!" she waved her arms. "Over here! I'm down here!"

He shouted out an order to his bos'n, and she started to swim over when she realized the truth:

She had a tail.

Emma turned quickly in the water - a little too quickly. It was like the water wasn't even there. She spun and tried again, watching her tail smack the water as she did.

"I'm a mermaid?" her voice squeaked a bit on that last word. She looked down at the sea-shells barely covering her breasts, and the long expanse of glittering tail swishing back and forth in the water.

Killian leaned over the edge, tossing a rope down to her. "Grab the rope, Swan!"

"I can't!"

"Are you injured?" His face was instantly concerned.

"No, I'm a mermaid!" she called back.

"What?" He looked completely taken aback.

"You heard me - a mermaid!" She flipped her tail, giving the water a loud thwack just to prove her point. Killian ran a hand through his hair, stepping back to look around at his crew. Which of the scurvy dogs was dreaming of Emma as a mermaid? His eyes narrowed as they landed on Mr. Smee, who was leaning on the rail, with his chin in his hand, staring out at her.

"Head for shore," he called down to her. "I'll take the boat and meet you by the rocks."

He made short work of lowering the boat over the side and rowing out to meet her. He jumped out, pulling the boat to shore before he stepped out onto the rocks. Emma pulled herself up, settling in next to him.

"So...this isn't your dream?"

"Not likely, love. As fetching as you look, any dream of mine would have the lower half of you human." He gave her a cocky grin. "Are you hungry? I brought lunch, but I'm not sure if poultry is on the menu when you're part fish."

"The human half is more than happy to digest chicken," Emma said. "The fish half can just sit here and sun itself on a rock."

Killian spread a tablecloth over the rock between them, laying out some sliced chicken and a loaf of bread. He very gallantly stepped to the edge of the treeline to chop down a bunch of bananas, sending a group of monkeys scattering as they screeched at him. He returned victorious, dropping the bananas on the rock next to them.

"They fought bravely," he said. "But they were no match for a cunning pirate."

"Better than fighting a polar bear," Emma said.

"You fought a polar bear?"

"On the island," she said. "I shot it."

Her eyes met his in a moment of shared memory, then she looked away. Killian sat back down and glanced up at the sky.

"D'you think we'll get rained out again?"

"That'd be a shame," Emma said, around a mouthful of chicken.

"Well, you could just dive under. What does it matter if you get wet?"

"Good point," she agreed. "But I was talking about last time. We got interrupted."

"We got most of our lunch eaten before it started," he reminded her. "And I had a very good ten minutes, as I recall."

"If it weren't for that damn sphere, it would have been longer."

He looked up from the bread he was slicing. "Really?"

The corner of her mouth lifted. "You were wearing me down. And it was raining and romantic and you had that whole...wet hair look going on..."

"I was wearing you down?" he raised an eyebrow, stuffing a chunk of bread in his mouth.

"Like you wouldn't believe." Her eyes held his and Killian momentarily forgot how to swallow. His eyes moved away from hers, narrowing as a scowl formed on his face.

"What is that damned idiot doing?" He stood up on the rock, waving his arms and trying frantically to signal poor Mr. Smee, but there was no stopping him. He stood at the bow, completely moonstruck, hands clasped under his chin, gazing at Emma as the ship ran aground into the rocks, sending them both tumbling down, down, down into the depths below.


	14. Leftenant Jones

"It's a fine morning, wouldn't you agree, Leftenant?"

Killian turned from his writing to smile at his older brother. "I'm not a Leftenant yet."

"You've gotten the promotion," Liam pointed out. "You've only the ceremony to get through." He consulted his pocket watch. "In less than half an hour, you'll be a Leftenant, and...rumor has it you'll be receiving your orders."

"I'm leaving _The Vanguard?_" Killian stood up, laying down the quill.

"Aye. You're to be assigned to a new captain. He'll be pinning on your insignia." Liam moved over to the table, closing the ledger book that Killian had been working in. He put a hand on Killian's shoulder at the stricken look on his face.

"Chin up, Killian," he said. "You knew this day would come. You'll make a fine first officer, and the mission has been personally commissioned by the king himself."

Killian forced a smile. "Of course. Do you have any idea when I'm to leave?"

Liam walked over to the cabin door, opening it. "Tomorrow. You leave tomorrow. But for now...let's get up on deck and make you a Leftenant." He clapped his younger brother on the back as they ascended the stairs topside, where the crew was assembled and holding at attention. The townspeople lined the dock, waving ribbons and handkerchiefs in bright colors. Liam moved through the ranks, stopping at the foot of the platform, set below the wheel deck. He gave his brother a smile, brushing a piece of imaginary lint off his shirt collar.

Killian gave him a nervous grin, then ascended the steps to the platform, where he was greeted by the admiral.

"Sir," Killian said deferentially. "Thank you for coming."

"A pleasure," the admiral reassured him. "Always happy to see a man bettering his station. From what I hear, you're a born leader, Mr. Jones."

"Thank you, sir. I hope to earn that praise."

"Shall we begin?" The admiral said. Killian took his place in the center of the platform, and the admiral moved to his side.

"It's time to meet your new captain, Mr. Jones," he said. Killian's eyes moved to the platform stairs, only to see Liam ascending. He walked over and stood in front of Killian, holding the insignia in his hand.

"Welcome aboard, little brother."

"Liam...you've been given a ship?" Killian's eyes were wide.

"Indeed. A very special ship - commissioned by the King himself and made of enchanted wood, to undertake a journey of the utmost secrecy. He wanted me to bring along only the best officers and crew. I told him I needed a first officer that I could trust to the ends of the earth."

Liam reached out, pinning the insignia on Killian's epaulette. "Congratulations...Leftenant Jones." He turned to the assembled crew and crowd on the docks, raising Killian's hand and shouting, "Leftenant Jones!"

"Huzzah! Huzzah!"

The crew and the townsfolk dissolved into cheers as Killian jumped down off the platform, receiving their handshakes and arms about his shoulders. He lost his hat somewhere along the way, and the crew good-naturedly filled it with rum, trying to tip it back onto his head. The merriment went on for a good, long while, until finally, the crowd thinned out, and Killian made his way to the gangplank to wave the last of them off as Liam went below with the admiral to discuss more of the King's business.

He was just about to order the pulling in of the gangplank when he saw her. There was something familiar about the girl, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. She was beautiful enough to turn any man's head. Surely, he would remember if he'd made her acquaintance. She was standing alone now that most of the crowd had left the dock, save for a few young boys playing with a stray dog down at the other end. She stood simply watching him from the dock, so he moved down the gangplank toward her.

"Hello," he said.

"Hello." She gave him a smile that said she had a secret, and he found himself intrigued.

"Have we met?" he asked her.

She thought about that a moment before answering. "No. I have never had the pleasure of meeting Leftenant Jones," she said demurely.

He gave a short bow. "At your service, my lady. And you are...?"

"Emma," she said, extending her hand. He grasped it warmly between his own, and she glanced down, as if momentarily startled. She managed to cover it when she looked back up at him, and he was even more curious.

"Are you sure we haven't met?" He eyed her curiously, feeling an odd sense of deja' vu.

"Maybe we've got some mutual acquaintances," Emma offered helpfully. "I was just about to get some lunch. Would you like to join me?"

Killian looked back at the ship, then back to her. "I'll let my captain know I'll be away," he said. "I've been released from my duties for the remainder of the day, as is customary."

She smiled. "Guess they expect you to enjoy the rest of the day," she remarked.

"Or they expect me to succumb to my frivolity," he said, raising a brow. She laughed, and he was growing more enchanted by the moment. "I'll be right back," he said. He turned to go up the ramp, stopping half-way up. "Don't go anywhere," he warned.

She looked up at him, and something in her eyes made him feel like he could stare at her forever. "I wouldn't miss this for the world," she said.

###

"Please, my lady - " Killian insisted.

"Emma."

"Emma - you cannot expect me to let you pay for our meal." He pulled out a few coins, handing them to the serving wench. "It wouldn't be good form."

"But I invited you," she pointed out.

"All the more reason why you should let me pay. Consider it a 'thank you.'"

She looked up at him from beneath lowered lashes. "I don't think I've ever had lunch with anyone who was as much of a gentleman, Mr. Jones."

He leaned back in his chair, dabbing at his mouth with a handkerchief. "I'm sorry to hear that. A lady as fine as you deserves nothing less."

She fumbled with her fork for a moment, twirling it in her fingers as though she were thinking something over. Killian watched her carefully, not even mindful of the silence. It was entirely comfortable for some reason. He'd never met a girl who didn't fill up any silence with some kind of mindless chatter. Besides, he just liked looking at her.

At last, she sighed, putting the fork down and pushing her plate away.

"I almost hate to do this," she said, as if to herself.

"Hate to do what?" he asked.

"Remind you," she said. At his quizzical look, she went on. "Of our mutual acquaintance. I think you may have visited my town."

"And where is it that you live?" he surprised himself by realizing that he hadn't asked her that already. He was fast becoming besotted and now she was even more of a mystery.

"I'm from a place called Storybrooke," she said carefully. "Perhaps you've heard of it?"

He shook his head. "No. No, I haven't."

"They have a tall ship of their own there," she said. "It's pretty impressive. The Jolly Roger. Do you know it?"

"The Jolly Roger?" Killian said, looking at her strangely. "The name is a bit...piratical."

"Maybe that's because it's a pirate ship," she said.

Killian looked at her a moment, completely nonplussed. "Are you telling me," he said, looking around before he lowered his voice, "That you're a _pirate_?"

"No, but I once had a picnic with one," she replied. "On board the Jolly Roger."

He looked at her with something akin to alarm, which faded into confusion, and then he said slowly, "You had a picnic...with me."

"That's right. It rained."

"And then you...disappeared." He clenched his left hand, then unclenched it. "Swan? I'm dreaming?"

"Yeah," she answered softly. "Sorry."

He nodded his head, blinking a few times, as if to clear his thoughts. He sat back in his chair, taking in a deep breath and looking around.

"When did you show up?" he asked her.

"Right before your ceremony."

"Why did you wait so long to remind me?" he asked.

She looked down. "I wanted you to have some time with your brother." She looked back up at him. "And with me. Just as Leftenant Jones."

He swallowed hard. "I haven't been Leftenant Jones in a very, very long time, love."

She gave him a calculated look. "No," she said, shaking her head. "I think you've got a lot more of him in you than you want to admit." She gave him a cheeky grin. "And besides, I'm liking the uniform."

He gave her a cheeky grin of his own. "Women never could resist it. 'Course, I wasn't much for debauchery in those days."

"_These_ days," she corrected.

"You're perfectly welcome to debauch me, if that appeals to you. Sully me all you like."

He raised a brow and she gave him an answering smirk. "Come on," she said. "Wouldn't you like to hang with your brother?"

Killian stepped around to the other side of the table, pulling her chair out and then taking her hand to help her to her feet. Emma gave him a wide-eyed look.

"What?" he asked.

"You. Check out the manners."

"Now you know why I fit in so well with British society," he said, taking her hand and threading her arm through his. He pushed open the door to the tavern, leading her out onto the dock. "It just so happens," he continued as they walked, "That my brother is closeted with the admiral, discussing matters of the king's business, and will be for some time. I'm dining with him later at a fine establishment known as The Harp. And you'll be joining us."

Emma glanced down at the simple peasant blouse, brown skirt and corset she was wearing. "I'm not really dressed for dinner," she said.

"Ah, but I just got promoted, and with that came a healthy increase to my salary," he informed her. "I shall be happy to buy you something suitable."

"Any chance it won't have a corset?"

He answered her with a maddening grin, and she let herself be pulled along, toward the dress shop.

###

"Killian tells me you're related to the royal family of the Enchanted Kingdom," Liam remarked, as he cut into his roast beef.

"_Distant_ relations," Emma clarified, taking a sip of her wine. Hell, right now, her mother's grandmother probably wasn't even born yet.

"She's even got a title," Killian pointed out, "She just won't use it."

Emma gave him a warning look over the rim of her wineglass.

"Sounds like she wants to be free to enjoy her adventures without the burden of the title," Liam observed.

"Something like that," Emma agreed.

"My brother needs a girl with a bit of spirit," Liam observed. "He's entirely too straight-laced by half. It would do him good to find his roguish side."

"You're supposed to keep me out of trouble, Liam," Killian observed. "Not encourage me toward it."

Liam looked over at Emma. "Are you trouble, Emma?"

Emma gave him a conspiratorial smile. "Probably."

"Then you have my wholehearted approval," Liam said, clinking his wineglass to hers. "Loosen him up a bit. Teach him to have some fun."

###

Liam gallantly kissed Emma's hand and said his goodnights before going back aboard, and they walked back down the dock. Killian paused at the door to the Inn, looking back toward the ship, bobbing gently in the water.

"Killian." Emma's voice broke through his thoughts and he turned to look at her.

"You don't have to stay with me." She reached up, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "Go and spend some time with your brother."

He looked back down the dock.

"I mean it," she said. "We don't know how long this dream will last."

He looked back at her. "We leave tomorrow. For Neverland."

Emma's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Aye. He'll die there, and I'll take the ship."

"What if he doesn't?" Emma said. "He doesn't have to die. You can stop it now."

He stared at her. "I can. I can stop it." His eyes widened with wonder. "Here, at least, he can live - for however long we've got."

"That's right." She gave him a smile. "And I'll be waiting when you land. Right on the dock."

"Right on the dock?"

"Promise."

He reached out, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her in until his forehead rested against hers. "I'll hold you to that, love." He kissed her softly once, then again.

"Go on," Emma said, pulling back a little reluctantly. "Go enjoy some family time."

Killian looked at her, and the brightness in his eyes made her feel like something was shifting inside her.

"He likes you, you know."

"I like him," Emma answered. "I'm glad I got to meet him, even if it had to be here."

He reached out, twirling a lock of hair around his finger. "Here hasn't been all bad."

She slid her hand up, twining her fingers with his. "No. It hasn't."

They stood looking at each other a moment longer, until Emma dropped his hand and stepped back. "Go," she said, smiling.

"I'll be back," he promised.

They sailed for Neverland with the morning tide, but a storm took them out of the sky, and all souls aboard were lost to the depths of the sea.


	15. Portland

_**Oh, readers...I adore you! Seriously. Thank you so much to all of you who've commented or PM'd me about my stories. I've had a rough week and you've made it better. Really. And to address a few comments...**_

_**I do realize that "Leftenant" is actually spelled "Lieutenant", and pronounced differently - but I also knew if I wrote "Lieutenant" someone would correct me to the other way since the show used the British pronunciation. I made an executive call on that one, to keep the feel of it. **_

_**And as for the gay bar scene in chapter 13...making David gay was in no way meant as an affront to the love he shares with Snow. (If you've read any of my stuff, you'll know that David is absolutely one of my favorite characters to write - see my story "Caught in a Bad Bromance" in Captain's Choice for proof). It was meant to be funny, pure and simple. It wasn't even David's dream. Maybe I'll tell you whose it was when this all winds up. Maybe. :)**_

_**And now on to our next chapter - you can thank a reader for the next scenario...**_

* * *

><p>Killian found himself walking down an unfamiliar street in a less-than-ideal part of a city, from the looks of it. He staggered a few paces at first, having just been running from a pack of wolves in his previous incarnation. He'd thrown himself off a cliff to avoid them and when he hit, he was walking here.<p>

Where was here? New York? It was dark but the moon was bright enough that he could still make out the mountain peaks in the distance behind the city skyline. Definitely not New York, then. And not Storybrooke, either.

He glanced down, but got no further clues from his attire. He was wearing a plain hooded sweatshirt over a black tee shirt, and jeans with boots. He reached down, digging in his pocket for the compass and getting a bearing. It took him three blocks over, onto a heavily traveled street, garish with neon lights and the fetid smell of open drains. A scrawny cat hissed at him from an alleyway as he passed, where a drunken man lingered, leaned heavily into the wall.

The compass led him to a building, the entranceway had a line queuing up outside, so he stepped into it, watching as the men slid money through an opening in a window near the door. Someone on the other side stamped their hand and allowed them in. He felt around in his pocket and found a wallet, with money inside. He finally got up to the window.

"How much?' he asked.

The person behind the window glanced out at him. "You a vet?" The man pointed directly at his hook.

"Absolutely." Killian gave him a smile.

The man gave him a nod. "On the house." He picked up his stamper, and Killian dutifully slid his hand through the partition in the glass to get stamped. Then the door buzzed, and he stepped in.

He did such an immediate double-take that he nearly stepped back out. He moved through the dimly lit room to an area under one of the lights so that he could see better, and he pulled out the compass again. There was no mistaking it. Emma was here somewhere. He turned, planning on scoping the room, but got interrupted by a very scantily clad girl wearing too much make-up and entirely too much perfume.

"Hi!" she said, with an overly bright smile. "Would you like a private dance?"

He raised a brow, and he didn't need a translation for the terminology. No matter what city he landed in, some things were universal.

"No, thank you." He moved to go around her, but she reached out, touching his arm.

"Special rate for that face," she offered.

"I appreciate that, but no," he gave her a forced smile and continued looking over the room. Women in various stages of undress were gyrating from poles and on chairs scattered on the stage, while men - and even a few women - watched from their chairs and tables, tucking money into the girls' undergarments or between their breasts. Killian scanned the dancers on the stage, noting with relief that Emma wasn't among them.

He'd just reached the other side of the room, when he heard raised voices down at the end of a nearby hallway. He paused a moment, listening as best he could over the loud, pulsing music.

"I'm not putting you out there, Emma," the man's voice said, in exasperation. "You ain't ready yet!"

"How am I supposed to make any money just taking drink orders?" she asked. "You said you'd let me dance this week!"

"You're not that good, honey - you need more practice. You got the looks and the body, but you need to look like you're _enjoying_ it more. Nobody wants to see a sourpuss up there. Maybe next week."

"Mickey - "

"You wanna make money? Get back out there! Do some privates! If you're grinding on his lap, he won't even care what your face is doing. Now go!"

Killian watched as a pair of hands roughly shoved Emma out the door, and she tottered a moment on stiletto heels before getting her balance back. She let out a loud sigh, shoving her hair back off her face.

Good God. What was she wearing?

She turned and he got an eyeful - she was wearing a very skimpy bra - nothing more than triangles and string, with a layer of fringe underneath, and fringed thong with a string at the back, both in a hot shade of red. Along with the red heels, that was all she was wearing.

Killian swallowed hard, which was difficult to do when all the saliva seemed to have left his mouth. She gave him a cursory glance as she started to move past him, but he stopped her with a hand to her shoulder.

"Hey!" she spun around, knocking his hand away. "No touching without an invitation!"

He stared at her in surprise. "Sorry," he mumbled. His eyes moved over her face, realizing that something was...different. She was younger. Still a bit care-worn, but fresher, somehow.

"Do I need to call a bouncer?" She threatened.

"Emma...!" The man's voice called a warning from down the hallway.

She bit her lip, turning to look back, then she slowly turned to face Killian again.

"Sorry," she said, giving him a tight smile. "Bad night. But...uh...can I get you a drink?"

Killian nodded. "Would you care to join me?" he asked. "We could find a table and...talk."

She gave him a look. "I'm not allowed to drink while I work." She looked back down the hallway again, then straightened her shoulders and took in a breath. "And if you want me one-on-one, you need to pay for a private." She said it all in a rush, like she wanted to get it said before she changed her mind.

"All right." He smiled at her, and she tilted her head to the side.

"Do I know you?"

"I think we may have met once," he said. "Have you ever been to Storybrooke?"

"Don't know it," she said, motioning him over to a doorway near the side of the bar. "We can go in here," she explained. "What are you drinking?"

"Rum."

"Straight up?"

"Yes."

"Ice?"

"No, thank you."

"There's a two-drink minimum, you know," she informed him.

"I'm sure that'll be fine." He couldn't stop staring at her, but from the look of her, she was used to it - especially in that outfit. She motioned him into the room which was small and dank, with a circular couch with a table set next to it in the corner. He looked down at the vinyl covering the couch with distaste, setting himself down on the very edge. He didn't have long to wait. Emma returned with a drink on a tray, setting it down on the table for him.

"Do you have preference in music?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"Okay," she said with a shrug. She walked over to a CD player, putting a disc in. Before she pressed "play" she turned hesitantly back around.

"Um...I'm sort of new. So...I just wanted you to know that. And...you have to pay me up front. House rules."

"Understood." Killian reached into his wallet, pulling out all his remaining money and laying it on the tray.

Emma's eyes went wide. "Okay," she said. Then under her breath she added, "Here goes nothing..." She pressed play, tossed her hair back off her shoulders, and walked back over to him. The music started up and she turned her back to him, starting to sway. Killian sat, mesmerized, watching her in near-disbelief as she circled her hips and bent over very, very slowly in front of him, her hands stroking her legs as she went down...

Killian closed his eyes. He had to stop her. Good God, she was going to kill him for letting it go this long, once she remembered. He opened his eyes again only to find her turned around, and before he could get a word in, she threw a leg over his, sliding herself slowly down onto his lap before she gave a slow, grinding thrust right onto his painfully erect appendage.

"Emma!"

He put a hand on her waist, trying to still her movements.

"Hey!" She scrambled off him. "You're not allowed to touch! House rules!"

He kept his hand up. "Sorry - I -" he spluttered.

She put her hands on her hips. "Can I finish this? You only get three minutes."

He took a deep breath, and when that didn't work, he took another. "Why don't you turn the music off, love."

Emma looked crestfallen. "No! No, please - I can finish this. I know I'm not too good yet, but I really need the practice. I'll throw in an extra two minutes, okay?"

His jaw tightened. "I'm still going to pay you. But I'd rather just talk, if that's all right."

"Talk?"

He nodded. "Just talk." He patted the couch next to him. "I promise."

"You're serious?" She walked over and shut off the music, easing herself down on the couch as far from him as possible. "What do you want to...talk about?"

"I was wondering if you've met anyone else here who might have lived in Storybrooke," he said.

She narrowed her eyes, thinking. "No, not that I know of."

"It's a very nice place. They have a restaurant with really good lasagna. It's called 'Granny's.'"

"Yeah...so?"

He raised his brows, trying to think of another tack. "You should see it in the winter. The town is especially charming when there's snow on the ground..."

Emma's lips parted slightly, and she looked at him oddly. "Storybrooke?"

"That's right. It's also an excellent place for a picnic."

"On a ship," she whispered. "And then again, on the rocks."

"You were a mermaid," he said. "And a lovely one, at that."

"Killian." She blinked a few times, turning her head to look around her. "This is a dream."

"Aye," he confirmed. "And one of our more interesting scenarios."

"Oh my God...I'm dreaming about _this_?" She looked horrified. "Nobody was ever supposed to know about this!" She glanced down at herself in dismay, trying in vain to wrap her arms around and cover herself.

"Hold on," Killian said, standing up and shuffling off his coat. He handed it to her. "You'd better put this on. Neither one of us will be able to concentrate until you do." Emma slipped into it with a grateful, yet somewhat embarrassed look.

She glanced over at him, finding it hard to meet his eyes. "I only worked here for two weeks. I was lousy."

"You weren't lousy," he said, lifting a brow. "But I certainly would never have guessed you had this in your past."

"I'm not exactly proud of it," she defended. "But I needed the money." She lifted her chin, defying him to make a remark.

He reached out, taking her hand in his. "It's all right, Swan."

"Emma!" A man's voice carried through the doorway. "C'mon - you got customers waiting for the room out here!"

"Sorry, Mickey!" she called back. "We're done." She stood up, grabbing the money off the tray. She held it out to Killian.

"Keep it." He stood with a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You more than earned that."

She gave him a smirk, but kept her hand out. "I don't have pockets," she reminded him.

He took the money, glancing down at the parts of her in view from the opening in his coat. "I could just tuck it in..." he teased.

She grabbed his arm, pushing him toward the doorway. "Go!"

They shuffled through the doorway, and as she passed Mickey, she said, "I quit!" She stopped by the office briefly to change into her regular clothing before heading out the door and onto the street. Once they stepped outside, Emma handed him his coat.

"Here - and thanks."

He took in her long-sleeved tee shirt and jeans, noting that it was hardly going to keep out the chill. It was a cold night.

"You keep it for now," he said. "I'm all right."

"Thanks." She slipped her arms back into it, and he reached behind her, helping her put it on.

"So, where are we, anyway?" Killian asked.

"Portland. I was twenty."

"Ah."

They started walking slowly down the street, and Emma looked to be deep in thought. Her steps gradually slowed, until she finally stopped.

"Killian?"

"Yes, love?"

"Do you think we could go and get something to eat?" She gestured over her shoulder. "There's a diner just down the street."

"The last meal I took part in, I was the main course," he joked. She gave him an odd look and he smiled. "Of course. Lead on."

The diner was dimly lit and not the cleanest place, but it was warm and smelled predominately of coffee, so it was a welcome change. They slid into a booth with a slightly chipped and tilted table, ordering off the breakfast menu and digging into piles of scrambled eggs and greasy hashbrowns.

"So..." Killian said. "Where have you been since our last encounter?"

She ran a hand through her hair. "Here. I came here right after. I've been here a little less than a month. You?"

"I was playing poker with a one-legged prostitute, got into a water balloon fight with Henry and the dwarves, and most recently, was running for my life from a pack of wolves."

"You were dreaming about Henry?" she gave him an odd look.

"Henry was dreaming about me," he said. "Or maybe it was one of the dwarves. I assume it was Henry because the two of us were on the winning side in the skirmish."

"I wonder why he didn't dream about me?" she asked. "I wish I could see him."

He reached out, taking her hand across the table. "Just because he's not dreaming of you doesn't mean he misses you any less."

She looked away, out the diner window. "I know."

"You'll get back to him, Swan. We'll find a way."

She gave him a shaky nod, reaching for her hot cocoa. "Have you put together any more clues?"

"I'm not sure. I have a vague memory of a strange man - one who seems determined to kill me."

"He's killing you? Who?"

He looked over at her, chewing his lip. "Do you remember when we were in the hospital?"

She held his eyes a moment. "With Milah?"

"With Milah." He flushed. Dammit, he really hadn't wanted to bring that up.

She shifted her eyes away, remembering. "Yeah...the guy who blew us up?"

"That's the one. I can't clearly remember his face now, but I swear I knew him. And I recognized him again, in another dream. He shot me that time."

"But you still don't remember his face?"

"No. Do you?"

She shook her head. "But I also remember recognizing him, whoever he was."

"I think he's our next clue, then."

"I guess so," she agreed. "Now we just have to wait for someone to dream us out of here, so we can tell them about the familiar faceless guy we don't know." She leaned back in the booth, stretching her arms above her head.

Killian glanced up at the clock on the wall over the counter. "You must be tired," he said. "It's nearly two in the morning."

"Yeah, I could use some sleep," she admitted. Her eyes followed Killian as he slid out of his seat and stopped at the register to pay their bill. He walked back over, tossing a few dollars down on the table for a tip before reaching out a hand to help her up.

"Still with the manners," she observed, smiling.

"Can't help myself, love." He gave her a wink, and they walked out the door, onto the street. Sirens blared somewhere off in the distance, and it seemed to have gotten even colder now.

"How far to your place?" Killian asked. "Or were you planning on standing outside a diner all night?"

Emma wrapped her arms around herself, looking first one direction, and then the other, pulling a piece of hair out of her eyes that got blown there by an icy blast of air. She didn't answer, but something on her face told him what he needed to know.

"You don't have a place, do you?" he asked it quietly.

She stared down at the ground, kicking at a crack in the sidewalk with her toe.

"No."

"Where are you sleeping at night?"

"There's a woman's shelter six blocks over, but most nights, they're full up." She looked up at him again. "There's a sign shop behind the diner. If you've got a credit card, you can get the lock on their back door open. We just have to be out by six-thirty, because the owner comes in at seven."

He pulled his money out, holding it out to her. "Is there enough there for an inn?"

She smiled. "They're hotels here. And around this neighborhood, they rent by the hour. The crosstown buses stop at midnight, so we're kind of stuck."

"The sign shop it is, then."

She led him back through the alley, and he stood lookout while she got the door open. She ushered him inside, shutting the door and locking it behind him. "The owner is an old guy who doesn't want to sink money into an alarm system. He doesn't have anything most people would want to steal, anyway. It's not so bad - he keeps the heat on overnight because of all the paint and chemicals he uses, but it's only set at sixty. He's got a futon in the back office."

"What the devil is a futon?"

She pulled him through a doorway, and by the light of the streetlight coming in the tiny window, he could make out the well-worn couch. Emma picked up a pile of papers that had been set on it, placing them carefully on a nearby chair, then she pulled the couch away from the wall, folding it back into a bed.

"I could use one of those aboard the Jolly," Killian noted. "The bed in the cabin is entirely too compact."

"Somehow, a pirate with a futon just doesn't sound right," she said. She slid his coat off. "If we lay close together, we can both fit under your coat."

He stared at her a moment, grinning.

"What?" she asked, sarcastically.

"Did you think I was going to argue with that? Offer an alternative suggestion?"

"Come on," she said, climbing onto the bed and taking her shoes off. "Ohhh. It feels good to get those off my feet."

"Are you casting about for another foot rub?"

She flopped back on the bed, watching him remove his boots. "No. I'm too tired. I'd fall asleep in the middle of it."

He slid in next to her, pulling the coat over the both of them. They laid in silence for awhile, and then she spoke.

"Killian?"

"Hmmm?"

"If we get back - "

"_When_ we get back, Swan."

"_When_ we get back," she amended. "Could you not...tell anyone about this one?"

"Your secret is safe with me, love. D'you think I've never done anything I regret? Especially for money?" He could feel her laying stiff at his side, and he lifted his arm with a sigh, pulling her in to lay on him. She didn't fight him, settling her cheek against his chest.

She was silent again, and if it weren't for her hand tracing soft patterns on his belly, he would have thought her asleep. He was trying very hard not to respond to the touch of her fingers, reminding himself that she was clearly exhausted, but it wasn't helping much.

"Killian?"

"Yes?"

"It feels really, really good to be warm." She raised her head to look up at him. "_You_ feel really good."

"So do you."

She tilted her face up in clear invitation, and he rolled to his side, his mouth coming down on hers very gently, with a delicate finesse that held them both spellbound. He finally broke it off, reaching out to stroke her face and neck with his fingers.

"Well," he said, a bit huskily. "That's one way to get warm."

Her arms slid up around his neck, and she rubbed her leg invitingly against his.

"I can think of a few others," she murmured.

Her last thought, before she fell asleep, sated and protected, and yes, warm in his arms, was that tomorrow finally wasn't going to suck, now that Killian was here. She was looking forward to waking up, for a change. She slipped off to sleep with a smile on her lips.

And then she woke up in hell.


	16. Phantom

The ropes were digging into Emma's wrists, leaving them raw as they pulled her along. The crowd was jeering her, jostling, poking and prodding at her as she went by. She flinched as a clod of dirt hit her on the side of the face, leaving her eyes full of tears and making it even harder to see. She stumbled, and went down to one knee in the mud, only to be kicked and hit with sticks and hands until she was pulled roughly back to her feet. She was barefoot, and wearing what looked like a tattered nightgown, as if she'd been pulled from her bed.

"Up with you!" a man's voice shouted. "You'll not delay us further!"

"What the hell is going on?" Emma screamed, pulling against the ropes and feeling the blood stream down her arms as her skin broke open.

"She opens her mouth and speaks of hell!" A woman screamed.

"Silence, witch!" Shouted another.

The man pulling Emma along leaned in, his fetid breath right in her face. "You'll be wise to guard your tongue, woman. Save your voice to plead for mercies." He yanked the rope again, pulling her up the stairs to a nearby building, hauling her in the door and leading her roughly through the assembled crowd to a platform set at the far end of the great room.

Emma looked up in confusion and realized Regina was there, bound just like she was, her clothing partially ripped and filthy. One eye was swelling, and she had cuts all over her hands and arms. Her lip was oozing blood.

They dragged Emma up the stairs to the platform next to her, and Emma looked out at the assembled crowd in disbelief.

"Regina, what the hell is going on?"

Regina swallowed hard. "Someone turned me in," she whispered. "I guess they heard about me teaching you magic and went after you, too." She looked out at the crowd, barely dodging a rotting cabbage thrown at the both of them. "The good people of Salem seem to have a problem with magic of any kind."

"Salem?" Emma looked at her askance. "_Really_?" She lowered her voice. "Can we get out of this? Use our magic?"

Regina shook her head, answering quietly, "I don't know what they did, but I can't use my powers. See if you've got anything."

Emma closed her eyes, concentrating, but nothing happened. She couldn't feel any sort of magic welling up inside her.

"Nothing," she said. "I've got nothing."

Regina opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, the doors opened near the other end of the platform, where a table and chair stood. There was a quill and ink pot on the table, and a small candelabra. Leroy stepped out in front of the doors.

"The honorable magistrate will now hear the case against these women!" he announced in a loud voice.

A magistrate pushed his way past Leroy, ascending the steps to the platform and taking his seat at the table, shuffling a sheaf of papers. He looked up at them, and Emma had to bite her lip to stifle her gasp.

Even with a long, powdered wig, spectacles and a robe, she recognized him. It was him. The man - the one who kept reappearing. She fought to keep her expression blank, so he wouldn't know she recognized him. She wanted to see how this played out without him blowing them all up again.

"Bring forth the accusers," the magistrate said, in an almost bored tone of voice.

"Bring forth the accusers!" Leroy echoed from down below. After a little jostling, the crowd parted, leaving Marian and Robin standing front and center.

"You may state your case," the magistrate said, looking down at them.

Marian stepped forward, straightening her shoulders and clearing her throat. "Thank you, your honor," she said with all due deference. She raised her hand, and pointed a finger at Regina. "That woman," she said, in a loud and carrying voice, "Bewitched my husband, turning him from his family. She is a known purveyor of dark magic, and has used her dark influences to cause calamity and harm to hundreds."

"It's true, your honor," Robin echoed. "I had previously known of her evil ways, and still she was able to confuse my thoughts and obscure my better intentions. She's a witch of the darkest level." He reached behind him, and someone in the crowd passed him an old leather-bound book. "This is her book of incantations, the one she used to train her protege' in the dark arts," he said, pointing at Emma. He turned around and handed the book back to another bystander, reaching out to take something else.

"And this," he said, holding up a squirming and yowling black cat, "Is her familiar. It was found lurking outside her home."

Regina rolled her eyes. "I don't even own a cat!"

"Silence!" The magistrate warned. He looked out over the crowd. "Does anyone else have anything further to add to the charges?"

There was a rumble within the crowd, and Belle stepped forward.

"She used her magic to imprison me for twenty-eight years," she said.

"There's a reason she's known as The Evil Queen," Gold said, stepping out behind Belle. "Her dark ways have been common knowledge among us for far too long."

"You're the one who taught me!" Regina spluttered.

"Unbelievable," Emma said. "How does he get off and we get put on trial?"

The magistrate took in a sharp breath, shooting Emma a venemous look. "You mind your tongue! I will not have either of you casting aspersions upon an upstanding citizen. Mr. Gold's contributions to our community are well-known to all."

Gold gave them both a purely taunting smile, and the magistrate continued on.

"Regina Mills and Emma Swan, you are found guilty of the crime of witchcraft by the good testimony of your peers, and you are hereby sentenced to burn at the stake until you are dead, immediately following this pronouncement. So sayeth we all, on this day of reckoning." He moved to bring his gavel down, when a strong voice from the back of the room shouted,

"Stop!"

The crowd parted, and Killian pushed forward with a determined stride, coming to a halt in front of the platform. Emma's shoulders sagged with relief when she saw him. And as they locked eyes, she could practically feel him willing her to hold on.

"I have further testimony to add to these...procedings."

The magistrate looked at him through narrowed eyes. "You do not belong here, sir."

"But what I have to say is of serious import," Killian explained.

"We've entertained all the testimony we need hear," the magistrate said coldly. "These women have shown no repentance, and will therefore accept their fate."

"But we're not just talking about their fate," Killian said. "I too was bewitched. By both of them. And they each now have a child in their belly. You cannot put these women to death."

"Both of them?" The magistrate said in disbelief.

Killian gave him a cheeky grin. "At the same time."

Emma gave him a look as the room exploded in an uproar of shouts and exclamations. Regina glanced over at Emma, and then she looked down at Killian as if he'd lost his mind. He raised his eyebrows at Emma as if to say "_Just go with it..."_ Emma shrugged, and Regina nodded.

"He's right!" Emma shouted. "I'm carrying his child!"

Regina looked down at Marian, narrowing her eyes and giving her a smug little smile. "I don't know _whose_ child I'm carrying."

Marian let out a sound of outrage, turning on her heel and stalking out of the room. Robin gave Regina a tense look, then turned as well to follow her out. Regina sighed.

"So much for that tactic," she said.

The magistrate peered at them both over lowered spectacles. "So you plead your bellies, do you?" He glanced down at Killian. "And you," he said, pointing a finger. "You knowingly committed the sin of fornication with these women?"

Killian shrugged. "Well, I _was_ bewitched," he said with a grin, turning to face the crowd. "And look at them. Can you blame me?"

There was a muted grumble from the crowd, interrupted by the magistrate, banging his gavel down.

"Order!" he demanded. "Very well. In light of your present delicate conditions, your sentences will be commuted to imprisonment until such time as you are both delivered of your children. Then you shall be tied to the stake and burned alive." He turned to Leroy. "Bailiff, have them taken to the tower."

As they were led away, Emma's eyes locked with Killian's and his unspoken message came through loud and clear. _Hang on, Swan. _As she passed him, she felt him pressing something into her palm. She glanced down at the piece of wire, folding her fingers over it and trying not to smile.

_###_

"Just a little bit further to the right," Emma said, scrunching her face up in concentration. She worked the wire around in the lock, trying to catch the tumblers just right.

"Emma!' Regina's voice hissed. "Someone's coming!"

Emma quickly pulled the wire out, hiding it in the folds of her skirt as she stepped away from the cell door. Regina backed up against the wall in the cell next to her as they watched the magistrate, out of his robes now, but still wearing the wig, approach Regina's cell.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. His voice was almost gentle.

Regina looked at him like he was a madman. "How am I _feeling?" _She stepped forward, grabbing the bars near his face. "I've been bound and beaten and sentenced to death. How do you think I'm feeling?"

His eyes dropped to her stomach. "I was referring to your condition," he said.

Regina waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, that."

"I've ordered extra rations for you," he said. "And this evening you will dine with me privately." He lowered his voice, reaching out to touch her fingers through the bars. "I have a mutually beneficial offer to discuss with you."

Regina gave him a look of pure disbelief. "Are you kidding me?"

The magistrate stepped back, his face hardening. "We'll see how you like your time here in a cold stone cell, with only bread and water to sustain you. Your extra rations are revoked, as is my earlier invitation," he snapped. "When you're ready to...discuss things...you can send word. Until then, you sit here, and you rot."

He walked to the door, slamming it hard on his way out. Regina stared after him, with her mouth open wide.

"Of all the..." She turned and looked at Emma. "So now what?" she asked. "We've only got nine months to figure out a plan - if we don't starve first."

Emma pulled out the wire. "Give me five minutes, Regina, and we'll be out of here." She bent it into a u-shape, inserting both ends into the padlock on the cell and feeling around. Regina folded her arms over her chest and started pacing.

"If that disgusting old bastard actually thinks - "

"Shhhh!" Emma hushed her as she listened intently, and a moment later, the lock sprang free. Emma smiled widely.

"Not even five minutes," she crowed. "Now let's get out of here."

She made short work of the lock on Regina's cell, and together they moved toward the door. Emma leaned against it, listening, then she pulled the door open quickly, bringing Killian along with it, since he was in the process of turning the knob.

He staggered a bit, and then regained his balance, giving her a quick once-over.

"Oh good," he said. "You're ready to go."

"I assume you have a plan?" Emma asked.

"Other than letting you rescue yourself? Not really." He gave her a smile. "But I do have a ship, anchored out of sight of the harbor. I suggest we make our way there."

"Killian - " Emma gave Regina look, then pulled him aside, lowering her voice. "There's something else. That man - the magistrate -"

"He's our faceless bystander. Yes, I know. I also know where I recognized him from."

"Me, too," Emma said. "I saw him in another dream. He was a homeless man in one of Regina's dreams. And he was at the ball when Belle was dreaming."

"He's more than that, Swan," Killian said. "He's the man I sold the bloody ship to."

"What?" Emma's voice raised with surprise.

"Do you mind?" Regina said. "If we're getting out of here, I really think we should do it now and not be shouting at each other."

"She's right," Emma said. "We'll talk this out later."

"Follow me," Killian said, taking the lead. He reached back for Emma's arm, and she took in a sharp breath when his hands closed over the raw flesh around her wrist. He stopped in his tracks, and a muscle ticked in his jaw.

"Are you all right?" he said, reaching out to touch her face.

"She's going to be dead, if you don't keep moving," Regina pointed out, with a good deal of exasperation.

"Hold on one more second," Emma said. "I have to say this now, just in case. Regina - the magistrate...he's not who he seems to be. We've seen him before."

"Many, many times before," Killian added. "I sold him my ship."

Regina looked confused. "But you have your ship. You said you have your ship. Do you or don't you have a ship for us?" She asked in rising alarm.

"He does," Emma reassured her. "But you need to know this man has been following us. Killian and me. He's following us, and he bought Killian's ship."

"I don't understand - " Regina said, shaking her head. "He's following you? Why?"

"We don't know yet," Emma said. "But if we - "

She didn't get a chance to finish. Regina's eyes widened in alarm as her hand went to her throat and she began to choke, coughing and retching, staggering with the force of it. She put out a hand to steady herself as she stumbled toward the wall, hearing Emma shriek loudly.

Regina opened her eyes to the sight of flames dancing from the hall outside her open bedroom door, and the sound of the smoke alarms shrieking in cacophony all around her. The smoke was filling the room, tearing her eyes, thick and black. She rolled off the bed onto the floor, coughing and gagging as she pulled herself toward the window. Her mind dimly registered the sound of sirens over the noise of the alarms. It took every ounce of effort to drag herself up to the windowsill, only to see David's face silhouetted on the other side through her smoke-clouded eyes.

"Get back," his lips said soundlessly, as he motioned her away. She gave a nod, dropping down and covering her head. The glass smashed and rained down on her, and a moment later, David was lifting her, helping her through the window and down the ladder to Robin and Little John, who carried her to the end of the lawn, lowering her into the cool grass. She turned to her side, coughing and retching loudly.

"Go on, clear you lungs," Robin encouraged. "Deep, slow breaths now..." he kept a hand on her shoulder, warm and solid, and Regina felt her eyes tear up again, and this time it wasn't from smoke.

She pushed herself to a sitting position.

"Easy now," Robin cautioned. "Don't go too fast."

"Where's David?" she croaked.

"He's checking the perimeter. The fire department has the flames under control, but he wanted to be sure you were out of danger." Robin gestured to Little John. "Fetch some water."

Little John gave a nod, lumbering to his feet and setting off. Robin looked back down at Regina.

"Are you all right?" The concern in his voice was like a knife cutting into her.

"Yes." She looked up at him. "Thank you." They held eyes for a moment longer, until David came up behind Robin.

"Regina - you okay?"

She nodded, reaching out to take the bottle of water that Little John was now handing her over David's shoulder. She took a long, grateful swallow.

"I got a message," she said, still trying to get her breath. "From Hook and Emma. There's a man who's following them in there. They're not sure why. And he..." she paused a moment, taking another drink and trying to remember. "He's the man who bought The Jolly Roger."

David's face turned grim. "The phantom captain we've been looking for?"

"Apparently," Regina said. "But he's in there and following them."

"Maybe he's not just in there," David remarked. "Somebody set this fire, Regina. There were rags and gasoline found in the kitchen."

"What?" She looked at him incredulously. "Who would do that? And why?"

"I don't know," he said. "But they also left this in the bushes by your bedroom window." He threw something dark to Robin, who held it up and shook it out.

"A hood?" he asked.

"Looks like it," David agreed. "Someone was trying to drive you out of the house, Regina. And they planned to put that over your head once you climbed out the window. We must've arrived faster than they expected."

"So the pirate isn't the target after all," Robin said darkly. "It's Regina."


	17. Fun, Fantasy, and Questions

**Hello again readers! Oh, aren't we having fun? I know I am! Your ideas are wonderful things, and along with some stuff I have brewing on the backburner, we have got such a tale shaping up. And when this all winds down, you're going to understand just what an exercise this all was, because I'm having to seed some very specific things into some of the scenarios - very subtly, mind you - that'll smack you in the face when I call back to them later on, so I'm really having to get amazing creative about some of this. Suffice it to say, we're going to have a lot more fun (of the laughing and the sexy variety) with this, and I'm not only going to break your heart a few more times, I'm going to absolutely wreck you with one upcoming scenario. I was going to put it in before now, but it's wrecking me to write it. You have been warned.**

**So sit back, strap in, and get ready for a rollercoaster chapter, with a few scene prompts courtesy of my readers that fell together nicely. Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>"Get him!"<p>

"Don't let him get away!"

Killian looked back over his shoulder and realized two things simultaneously: one - a crowd of what appeared to be teenage boys was chasing him and two - he was flying through the air.

Flying. Through the air.

He looked down and saw what appeared to be athletic shoes on his feet, and those feet were firmly attached, heel-to-toe to a board with curved ends, and the board was hovering a few feet above the street below him as it flew.

What sort of magic was this?

He looked up just in time to see a parked car right in front of him, and he instinctively leaned to one side to avoid it, sending the board careening in that direction. He leaned back the other way, and the board followed suit, whizzing around a tree. He leaned forward a bit, sending the board down, then he leaned back and it shot higher in the air. Killian let out a laugh. This was amazing!

He was rapidly getting the hang of it, dodging signposts and cars and buildings as he flew down the street, only vaguely wondering where in the hell he was going because he was having so much fun. The teenagers that had been chasing him were long gone now, so he reached in his pocket, pulled out the compass, and gave it a quick look. He adjusted his course, reasoning that he'd might as well stay on the magic board, since it was much faster than walking.

He pulled a hard turn around an upcoming corner, glancing quickly at the compass again before he saw her, just ahead near the entrance to an alleyway. She was walking away from him, and he came up on her without any warning, scooping her up in his arms. She flailed wildly, screaming in reaction, causing him to veer too much to the left an nearly clip an old woman who was crossing the street with her poodle. He over-corrected, clipping the edge of park bench, and they tumbled to the ground rolling through the grass.

"Sorry, love," he apologized. "Damn. I was just getting really good at that."

Emma sat up, rubbing her elbow, which had gotten scraped up when she fell. "Where have you been?" She said, jumping to her feet. "Doc has been looking all over for you. Come on! We have to get to the car!"

She took off running through the park and he took off after her, not really sure what the hell was going on. She ducked behind a large copse of bushes and he followed, only to find her standing next to the strangest looking car he'd ever seen. The doors on the damned thing opened _up_ instead of out.

"Get in!" She shouted, climbing in the passenger seat and lowering the door, slamming it shut.

He slid into the driver's seat a bit hesitantly, pulling the door shut. He looked over at her with a crooked grin.

"You expect me to drive?" he asked.

"What?" she looked at him like he was crazy. "We have to get to the clocktower before midnight! That's when the lightning strikes!"

"I don't - "

She reached over, turning the ignition. "What, did you hurt your arms or something when we fell?"

Killian eyed the gearshift. "Yes. I can't...shift."

"I'll shift," she volunteered, shifting the car into drive. "Now give it some gas and let's get out of here!"

Killian pushed his foot onto the pedal closest to Emma, and the car leapt forward. He narrowly missed hitting a tree as he peeled out of the grass and onto the street. He moved his foot over to try the other pedal experimentally, and nearly threw them both through the windshield.

"What are you _doing_?" Emma screamed. "Go! Go! Go!"

He stomped on the gas pedal again and off they went, Emma calling out directions as they squealed around corners, coming up onto two tires at one particularly sharp turn. Finally, they turned onto main street, and Killian could see the clocktower at the end. Doc Hopper hung from the topmost corner of it, trying desperately to plug two ends of two different extension cords into each other.

"Do it!" Emma screamed. "Punch it, now! Head straight for the tower - we have to get up to 88 before we hit!"

Killian looked at her like she was nuts. "You want me to drive into the side of a building?"

"Just do it!" She shouted.

Killian gave a shrug and floored it, watching in fascination as the numbers on the dashboard display climbed higher and higher. They hit 88 a split-second before they slammed into the wall, and Emma threw up her arms to protect her face.

When she tried to lower them, she couldn't help but notice that one of her wrists was shackled to the headboard of the bed. She looked at it strangely, shaking her head to clear it. She'd just been in a DeLorean with Killian, heading back to the future. How the hell was she shackled to a bed?

Naked.

She was shackled to a bed naked. She gave her wrist an experimental tug, only to hear a soft chuckle - one that she'd know anywhere. She turned her head and there he was, leaning against a pile of rubble. She glanced around the rest of the place, finally realizing where she was. She was in Anton's treasure room, only this time there was a bed, apparently.

She looked across at him, taking in his crossed arms, booted feet crossed at the ankles, and very knowing grin.

"Pull on it all you'd like," he said. "Anton gave me the only key. And as I've sent him back to bed for the evening, it appears I've got you at my mercy, Swan."

"Come on," she said with a smirk. "Unlock me."

He pushed off the chunk of ceiling he'd been leaning on. "How does it feel to be shackled? Helpless? Feeling like you've been double-crossed?" His eyes darkened. "You thought you had me, didn't you? Luckily, I'm an even better negotiator than you, Swan. Anton was more than happy to help me, once I told him that you were only here to chop down his beanstalk. Then I offered to help him trap and secure a particularly pesky goose that he was having trouble with, and he rewarded me with one of these." He held up a golden egg. "Why, he and I are practically brothers now."

He moved over to the side of the bed, looking down at her with great, calculated interest. "And I have all sorts of ways of getting the vengeance I want from you. I think I should very much like to hear you beg."

Emma's eyes went wide. Holy cow - this was his dream. He wanted to turn the tables on her, and here was his fantasy. And damn if she wasn't rapidly becoming as intrigued by it as he was.

"Killian..." she said.

"Oh - so it's Killian now, is it? I didn't know you'd even paid attention, Swan." He put one knee down on the bed, then another, leaning over her on one elbow, and moving his lips to within a hairsbreadth of hers. "What a pity. I was hoping to pull my name from your lips through various acts of extreme coercion."

She didn't even have time to answer that. He slid down her body, insinuating himself between her legs before she could even finish gasping, and at the first touch of his stubble abrading her inner thighs, she let out a startled, but appreciative sound. He chuckled again.

"Keep it up, Swan," he said. "You're winning your way back into my good graces." He kissed her softly, tracing the seam of her sex first with tiny brushes of his lips and then the tip of his tongue until she was writhing and pulling hard against the shackle, her other hand tangling into his hair, urging him on.

"Oh, God, Killian...please..." she begged, and she could feel him smile against her as his hand slid beneath her, cupping her behind and pulling her tight against his hot open mouth and teasing tongue. He was relentless, and she was coming apart in no time at all, back bowing and heels digging into the bed beneath her. Killian gave her no quarter, his mouth burning deep as the pleasure overwhelmed her in wave after wave of ecstasy.

She barely remembered him unlocking her shackle, and he barely had time to do so before she was reaching for him, and rolling him beneath her for some vengeance of her own.

Much, much later, they lay drowsily in each other's arms, and Killian kissed her forehead lightly.

"Why did you wait so long to remind me, love?" he asked.

She gave him a smirk. "Are you kidding me? That was hot. And besides, I owed you on that one."

He gave her an annoyed look. "Yes, you did. It still irks me to remember it."

"Obviously."

He pulled her in tighter, rubbing his chin against her hair. "Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it."

She couldn't help but smile. "I guess it was bound to happen," she said. "Us running into our own fantasies. I mean, not all dreams are bad dreams, right?"

"Definitely not," he agreed. "And what's your fantasy, Swan?"

She closed her eyes, smiling wide and snuggling into his chest. "I'm not telling. You'll just have to find out."

They headed back down the beanstalk the next day, and when Emma's feet touched the ground, she found herself standing in sparkling shoes.

"They look lovely, Emma," Snow said, nodding her head approvingly. "Ella is right. We should go with the glass."

Emma blinked in confusion. All this dream hopping was seriously skewing her senses. She stared down at her glass-slippered feet, bright pink sequined and bejeweled gown, and elbow-length pale pink satin gloves and felt her lip curling in distaste.

"Glass slippers? Really?"

"They're perfect, Emma. Perfect slippers for my perfect little princess on the occasion of her coming out ball."

"My coming out ball?" Emma repeated blankly.

"How else are you going to meet any suitors?" Snow said. "It's not like your father's going to let them march over the drawbridge on a daily basis," she said, matter-of-factly. "Besides, everyone in the kingdom will be there, just to see our darling princess girl."

Emma winced. "Can you stop with the gushing princess stuff? Please?"

Snow made a face. "Emma, tonight is a night of possibilities. Why, you just might find your true love," she said, her eyes shining. "That is, if your father likes him. We'll work on that." Snow lifted one hand in the air, providing a perch for a bluebird that flew in through the window. She listened intently as the bird chirped a cheery song.

"Ah. They're ready for us."

She released the bird, and reached out to take Emma's hand. Emma glanced around at her fairytale bedroom and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She was wearing a tiara that sparkled with diamonds and pink gems, and she winced again.

"It's too much pink," she said.

Snow gave her smile. "There's no such thing. Now come on, you have suitors to meet."

###

"Buffoons. And drunkards. I haven't met one yet that's worth her time," David noted with an exasperated wave of his hand. He was standing against the wall by the buffet table, glowering at each and every man who'd asked his daughter to dance.

"Where are the social graces?" he complained. "None of them have an ounce of manners and if that boy doesn't stop looking at her chest..." he growled, pushing off the wall. Snow's arm shot out across his chest, stopping him.

"David - stop."

"Do you _see_ that?"

She gave him a look. "David."

He leaned back against the wall again, crossing his arms and making a huffing sound. He glared at the young man again when the dance ended and he walked past, just for good measure. Emma gave her father an understanding pat on the shoulder.

"Hang in there, Dad. The night is almost over."

"Please tell me that none of them have caught your eye," David said, pouring Emma a cup of punch.

"Relax," she said, taking a drink. "Your single daughter is still very much a single daughter."

Snow sashayed up, taking the cup of punch from her hand. "The music is starting again, Emma. Don't keep your admirers waiting."

"She just got here," David said, putting one hand on his hip.

"She's got the rest of her life to visit with you," Snow reminded him. "And besides, you haven't danced with me once all night."

David's face softened. "You're right. I haven't." He pulled her into his arms, and they whirled away. Emma let out a sigh and reached for her cup, only to have her hand connect with someone else's.

"Whoops," she apologized, turning around. "Sorry, I didn't - "

Her face lit up instantly. "Killian!"

He smiled, proferring a short bow. "Swan." He eyed her ballgown and tiara, raising a brow. "I gather this isn't your dream, then."

She rolled her eyes. "More like a pink princess nightmare. I think we're in my mother's dream. David isn't too thrilled to be here, either."

"I'd assumed as much."

"So what's with the uniform?" Emma asked. "You threw me for a moment there. I thought I was talking to Leftenant Jones."

"You are," he said with a smile. "I arrived here early this morning, and the townsfolk were all aflutter with the news of your royal coming-out ball. Your father's reputation for discouraging your suitors is well-known across the realms - and I speak from experience there - so I thought it might be prudent to present myself as a military man."

"He'll have a hard time finding fault with service to your king," Emma agreed.

"Now I just have to be sure that I keep my eyes on your face instead of your decolletage, and I may just survive the evening without him skewering me on his sword." He extended his hand. "Shall we dance?"

She took his hand, smiling. "I thought you'd never ask."

He led her to the floor, twirling her about with a graceful, practiced ease, and to Emma's surprise, she remembered most of the moves. Killian made it easy, though, his hand strong against her back, guiding her and making her look good. They whirled past her parents, and Snow tapped David on the shoulder.

"David! David!"

"Who is that?" he asked. "I don't recall any officers on the guest list."

"He's handsome," Snow remarked.

"_What_?"

Snow rolled her eyes. "I mean, she thinks he is. Look at her - have you seen her make that kind of eye contact with anyone this evening?"

"At least he's looking her in the eye," David observed. "I don't know why you had to go with the pink gown, anyway. The blue one was nicer."

"The blue gown buttoned under her chin," Snow deadpanned.

"Exactly." He turned Snow in a circle so that he could look at them more closely. "Well, he appears to have some manners," he noted.

"David...she's smiling. _Really_ smiling."

David looked over at his daughter thoughtfully. "She is."

Snow let out a sigh, and David gave her a smile. "You are such a hopeless romantic."

"Not hopeless. Hope_ful_."

Killian danced Emma toward the edge of the crowd, hoping he could shuffle her off the dance floor while David was conversing with Archie. He had to take his chance while he could. He'd just maneuvered her through the dancers when Emma's fingers suddenly tightened on his shoulder.

"Killian." Her tone was a warning.

"What?" he asked, glancing over toward the buffet table. "Is your father coming?"

"No..." she said, carefully lowering her voice. "It's him again. Our phantom captain." She gave a slight nod off to her left, and Killian turned her so that he could get a look.

"That's him, all right," he agreed. "With the purple coat."

"And once again, he's right next to Regina," Emma said, narrowing her eyes in thought. "Why Regina?"

"Why does he keep trying to kill me? We can't very well drag him out and ask him - he'll just blow us all up again."

"Maybe," Emma said. "Maybe not." She dropped his hand and stepped back. "I'm going over there."

"Swan - "

She gave him a dismissive wave. "I've got this." She walked up behind the man, giving him a delicate tap on the shoulder and pasting on a saccharin-sweet smile.

"Hi!" she said brightly. "Thank you so much for coming to my ball."

He looked at her uneasily, then gave her a forced smile of his own. "It's my pleasure, princess. And are you having a good evening?"

She rolled her eyes. "No. My parents tell me I have to dance with a few more visiting dignitaries before I can go back to dancing with suitors. I'm hoping you'll do me a favor and help me out." She gave him a winning smile, clasping her hands together in a pleading fashion. He gave a quick glance over his shoulder at Regina, who was talking to a tall woman with a dress nearly as magnificent as hers, and then he turned back to Emma with a sigh.

"But of course." He extended his hand, and Emma took it, shooting a warning glance at Killian, who melted into the nearby crowd, but maintained a watchful distance.

"So," Emma said. "What brings you to the kingdom? Surely you didn't come here just for me."

"No," he said. "I have other business."

Emma lost her smile. "Yeah. I noticed. So why Regina?"

The man gave her a startled look, his footsteps faltering. He started to pull away, but Emma held his hand tight in hers.

"It's okay - I'm not going to blow your cover. Are you trapped here, too?"

His eyes darted nervously left, then right. "Yes," he finally said. "I came to be here quite by accident."

"Well, we didn't plan this, either," Emma said. "And we're just trying to find our way out."

"We?" he glanced past her, obviously looking for Killian.

"You know who I'm here with," Emma said. "You say you're here by accident - is that how the Jolly Roger got abandoned? Were you pulled in by the sphere?"

"I think it's best if we end this now," he said suddenly.

"No, wait! I just need to know - how do we find the sphere? We need to get out."

His eyes narrowed. "You cannot find it. No one can."

"There's got to be a way," Emma said, motioning Killian over. He'd noticed that they'd stopped dancing and was making his way toward her. "Please," she said. "Help us get home."

The man looked from her to Killian and back. He gave her an odd smile. "Oh, the things we do in the hope of gaining someone's regard. Finding the sphere won't get both of you home," he said. His eyes shifted to Killian. "And you know it."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Emma asked.

"Our dance is over, princess" said the man, stepping back.

"Stop!" Emma said. "We can help each other! We can - "

"You can't help me," he said.

Then he slashed his hand down, and something shattered against the floor, filling the room with flames and burning them all to ash.


	18. The Sacrifices We Make

_**Okay, Readers, now it's time for the part where I make you grumble. I know you've been more than happy with my daily updates, but I'm here to tell you that you probably won't get one tomorrow. I'm away for the weekend (Vegas, baby!) and since I plan to come back missing some clothing, sporting a huge barbed-wire tattoo and/or married to Carrot Top, you may not get an update till Monday.**_

_**Sorry, folks. Priorities...**_

_**Anyway, I do hope you all enjoyed Killian's little revenge fantasy. And of course, our mystery man is giving us some trouble, so let's get back to the story, shall we?**_

* * *

><p>Killian's last memory was a blinding flash of light and then...darkness. As his eyes adjusted, he came to see the shadows and objects within the darkness, and not just a complete lack of light as he'd originally thought. He became conscious of the smell of vegetation, lush and green, carrying a slight hint of tropical flowers with it, and the ground beneath him was slightly spongey. The sound of a boar squealing off in the distance teased his ears, along with the distant crash of waves upon a shore. He was sitting with his back against a log, and he only had a moment to register all this before Emma stood before him.<p>

"Hey," she said.

He looked up at her. "Hello."

"Listen, can you do that thing you do with the coconuts?" she held a coconut out in her hand, then squatted down next to him to offer it to him.

He looked at her more closely, the realization playing through his mind as the deja vu hit him hard.

They were in Neverland. Specifically, they were in Neverland the night after they kissed.

He turned his head and saw Regina, Snow and David all asleep on the other side of the campsite, and a smile played across his lips. She'd done her best to stay away from him for the remainder of the day, but now she was thirsty and they were preserving the water.

"Have a seat, Swan," he offered. "Happy to oblige."

She gave him a downright distrustful look, but sat down beside him anyway. He took the coconut from her hand, digging the point of his hook into it.

"You don't happen to have another one of these, do you?" he asked.

She reached beside her, placing another one in his lap.

"I figured you'd want some payment for your services."

His eyes slid to hers, and the slow grin and eyebrow raise he gave her made it clear he had something else entirely in mind. She gave him an answering smirk and took the coconut he handed her, drinking deeply and then wiping her mouth.

"Too bad we don't have some food," he said. "We could have a picnic."

She gave him a look. "It's the middle of the night."

"But I'm rather fond of picnics at all hours, so long as the weather holds."

She looked at him oddly. "The weather?"

"Well, we wouldn't want to get rained on, would we?"

"It hasn't rained once since we got...here." Emma's voice trailed off, then she took in a breath. "Okay. I've got it now." She looked over at him.

"Goddammit."

"What the matter, love?" he reached out with his hook, pushing a lock of her hair off her shoulder.

"Neverland."

He nodded sagely. "Certainly not an ideal locale. But better than being burned alive. Or shot. Or exploded."

"Don't forget 'burned at the stake,'" she added. "Bastard."

He took a drink from his coconut, putting it back down in his lap. "So why are you dreaming of Neverland?"

She looked annoyed. "How the hell do I know? I just am."

"But of all nights...this specific night. I just wondered."

She leaned her head toward him, looking up at him. "I guess you're on my mind in here."

"Along with Archie, and being British. Anything else?"

She bit her lip, closing her eyes and thinking. "I'm seeing Regina more than Archie, and that guy is following her. He said he was trapped, like we are, but he also said we can't find the sphere."

"He assumes we have a whole world to search, not just a town," Killian pointed out.

"Yeah," Emma said, "But he said 'can't,' not 'won't.' I got the feeling that it's not just that he thinks it's impossible - he doesn't want us to."

"Then I suppose the question is, 'What does he think we're going to keep him from doing?'" Killian surmised.

"And what does it have to do with Regina?" Emma added, with a large yawn.

"Tired, Swan?"

"I just came from kayaking down a waterfall with a bear in my boat, and before that I was at a ball dancing all night. Of course I'm tired."

He patted his lap. "It just so happens I have a pillow for your head."

"You're not tired?"

"Somebody has to keep watch. As I recall, it was me this night anyway."

She started to lay down, but stopped, leaning on one elbow and looking up at him. "You remember one specific night?"

The look in his eyes warmed her, all the way down to her toes. "I remember _this_ night," he said softly.

"If it's any consolation," she said, settling herself down and putting her head against his leg. "I didn't get much sleep either, that night."

He smiled. "I know. I was watching you." He brought his hand down, threading his fingers through her hair, stroking it and rubbing her head until she fell asleep. When she opened her eyes, he was still holding her, but they were...moving?

Tilting, actually, as the Jolly pitched ever-so-slightly under them. They were laying on the bunk in the Captain's cabin, and they were obviously at sea. She reached out, touching his chest and giving it a little push.

"Killian."

He made a nondescript sound in his sleep, and rolled away from her.

"Killian," she persisted, poking him again. He reached around, grabbing her arm.

"I'll put that hand to better use, love, if you poke me again," he murmured huskily. Emma smiled, stretching. "We're on board your ship."

He rolled over, eyeing her strangely. "And this surprises you? This whole trip was your idea, love."

"It was?"

"Well, your daughter's idea as well. You both quite overruled me. I wanted to take her out drinking for her seventh birthday."

Emma's eyes widened. Her jaw fell open and then she shut it again, but it took a real effort to do so. Suddenly, the hatch flew open and two sets of feet pounded down the ladder, across the cabin floor and launched two young children, a boy and a girl right to the center of the bed, landing on Killian and Emma in a welter of arms, legs, and laughter.

"Papa!" Shouted the boy.

Killian tried to look stern. "Finn! Meriel!" What did I tell you about your Mother and I? If the hatch is closed, we want our privacy."

Meriel made a face. She crossed her arms, holding her stuffed bear tight to her chest. "Kai and I were hungry for breakfast," she pouted.

Emma reached out, ruffling the fur on the bear's head. "Well, Kai...I think we can find something."

Meriel started to object, but Killian put a hand to her lips. "Kai isn't her bear, love. He's her invisible friend. Remember?"

"Oh. Uh...yeah. Sorry." Emma looked down at the little girl, still trying to take her - and her brother - in. Both had Killian's dark, dark hair, and Meriel's eyes were blue, but different - a swirling aquamarine that seemed to darken and lighten, depending on how the light hit her eyes. And the boy...Finn - he had her dark green eyes and was the spitting image of his father.

Emma couldn't stop staring at them.

"Come along, Kai," Meriel said, leaping off the bed. "We'll wait in the galley."

"Finn!" Killian reached up, grabbing five year-old Finn under the shoulders and pulling him down, away from the bookshelves he was climbing over the bed. "Go with your sister." He set Finn's feet to the floor and the child was already in motion, tearing up the ladder after his sister. "And behave!" Killian called out.

Emma watched them go, feeling like there was a fist squeezing her middle somewhere. She looked over at Killian a little reluctantly.

"Hey," she said. "Maybe we could have a picnic later..."

###

They'd been at sea all day, pulling into the island in the late afternoon. Killian knew of a hidden cove where they could anchor, and true to his word, the water was crystal-clear and warm as bathwater.

The children frolicked in the lagoon while Killian and Emma lounged on a blanket, watching the rays of the fading sun turn their skin golden, dancing over the water as they splashed and dove and played.

"They're naturals," Emma said. "I thought we'd need to be a lot more…I don't know…supervisory. They look like they were born in the water."

"They do, don't they?" Killian said with a satisfied smile. "Good God, woman. We make beautiful children, don't we?"

Emma smiled. "Yeah, I guess we do." She leaned back on her elbows. "So, is this another fantasy of yours? I never figured you for the paternal type."

Killian flushed, looking down. "I never have been, other than a short stint with Baelfire. I never found a woman I particularly wanted to procreate with."

Emma couldn't hold his eyes. "Oh."

He gave her an overly bright smile. "And then you came along and I took one look at your bone structure and knew we simply must progenate. We'd be doing the world a disservice if we didn't."

"Very big of you," she smirked. She stared out at the children again. "They really are something. Smart. Funny. That Finn is just a rolling ball of energy."

"Like his father," he remarked mischievously. "And Meriel is lovely. Like her mother."

Meriel's head popped up out of the water as though she'd heard her name.

"Papa! Come in! You too, mummy!"

"Come in!" Finn echoed, splashing his sister as hard as he could. She retaliated with a shriek and then they were both diving under.

"Guess we'd better," Emma said, with a laugh.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Killian answered.

He took her by the hand, and they ran for the water. Emma dove first, surfacing to grab Finn up in her arms and tickle him madly. Killian was about look for Meriel when he felt his legs being pulled from beneath him. He laughed out loud as went under, and when he came up for air, he was walking up the stairs, exiting the subway, and he was in New York.

He stopped at the top of the stairs, still having a hard time letting go of that last scenario. The people behind him gave him dirty looks as they pushed past him, and he stepped to the side, leaning against a nearby building.

Rumpelstiltskin was right. The dreamscape contained powerful magic – magic that could terrorize or delight or drive you mad with fear or yearning. And dammit – he'd met his children – his _children_, for God's sake, and now….well, now he was yearning. Not just for children, in general, but for children with Emma.

They'd been so _real_.

He took a deep breath in. There was nothing for it but to find Emma again. And again. And again.

He pulled out the compass, checking his bearing, and moved off down the street, making the appropriate turns and re-checking every so often until he was sure he was where he was supposed to be.

It looked like a church. The stone building stood on a corner, its bright red door standing open. Killian stepped inside, more than a little surprised to see most of the residents of Storybrooke seated on the pew inside. There were fresh flowers everywhere, and an organ played soft music as people were being escorted to their seats.

A man in a tuxedo stepped forward, but before he could speak, a door off the main foyer opened just a crack and a voice hissed:

"Killian!"

He stepped over, and a hand reached out, pulling him in by the arm. Emma yanked him through and shut the door, leaning heavily against it.

He turned to look at her and couldn't contain his surprise.

"Why are you in a wedding gown?" he asked, raising both eyebrows.

"Why do you think?" she retorted, throwing her hands up in the air. "I'm getting married!"

"When?"

"Now!"

"To who?" he said, a bit testily.

"I don't know!" She thunked her head back against the door. "I got here half an hour ago, just in time for my mother to put my veil in my hair. My father is talking to Archie, and he'll be back any second. Is there anyone standing at the altar?" she asked.

"I didn't look," Killian said.

She shoved him back to the door. "Well…go look!"

He opened the door, stepping out into the foyer and closer to the interior doors. The ushers were both busy, trying to get people into their seats, and just as he was turning to go back to Emma, a door off the vestibule opened and Henry stepped out, followed by….Neal.

Killian felt like he'd just been punched in the stomach. He backed slowly away from the doors, feeling behind him for the door to the room. He opened it and stepped inside, closing it quietly behind him.

"Well?" she demanded.

"It's Neal. You're marrying Neal." His voice was curiously flat.

She stared at him hard for a moment. "Wait – you don't think this is _my_ dream, do you?"

"No," he bit out. "It's probably your mother's. Or your father. Or it could be Rumpelstiltskin. It could be half the bloody town, for all I know." His hand curled into a fist.

"You're sure?"

He gave her an annoyed look. "The only other one up there waiting for the bride was Henry, so I'm assuming it's Neal."

Emma sat down heavily on a nearby couch. "Henry," she breathed. She looked up at him, her eyes full of the awful truth: this was Henry's dream. Killian's eyes mirrored her own as the realization dawned on him with equal force. Henry was dreaming his parents were not only both living, but marrying. Together. A family.

His family.

"Oh, God…." Emma whispered. "What do I do?"

Killian walked over, and gently helped her to her feet. He stroked the backs of his fingers down her cheek, lingering there as he gave her a long once-over in her wedding finery. Then he took a breath.

"You get married," he said softly. "You walk down the aisle, and you give your boy his dream."

Emma's eyes filled with tears. "Killian…" she couldn't speak for a moment, so she settled for a short, jerky nod.

"You'll understand if I can't stay." His jaw was tight, but he kept a smile on his lips, trying to keep it together.

"What if…" she looked away. "I don't know how long…" she couldn't finish again.

"It lasts as long as it lasts," he said simply. "And I'll see you next time around."

"Where are you going?"

He gave her a genuine smile this time. "I'm a pirate, love. I'll find my way."

He turned to go, but her voice slowed his step.

"Killian."

He looked back at her, wanting so badly to touch her but knowing he couldn't bear it if he did.

She stood there, letting the tears track down her face. Finally, she found her voice.

"There won't be a day that goes by that I won't think of you."

He paused in the doorway, giving her a lopsided smile that made her stomach hurt. It made all of her hurt. She was nothing _but_ hurt.

"Good," he said.

And then he was gone. And twenty minutes later, her father put her hand in Neal's, and in front of God and family and friends, she joined her life to Neal's, with Henry beaming at their side.

When they ran through the well-wishers outside the church, dodging handfuls of thrown birdseed, Henry declared it the happiest day of his life as they stood and greeted their guests, waiting for their limo to arrive.

Emma's gaze drifted off down the street, looking for a glimpse of a black coat around the corner of the alley, past the grazing pigeons and the carelessly stacked milk crates of the diner next door, but there was no one there.


	19. Dark Dreams and Fantasies

Killian made his way out of the bar, having a very hard time with gravity, for some reason. Most likely it had something to do with the very large quantity of rum he'd imbibed. He needed to find someplace to sleep this off, and while the female bartender who'd been giving him free drinks all night had made it terribly clear that he was welcome to come home with her, he just couldn't do it.

He'd been drinking steadily for three hours now, and he was close to blacking out, which would be a blessing really. Then he wouldn't have to be thinking about Emma in her wedding dress, walking down that aisle, with everyone looking on, smiling and invested in Henry's vision of happiness. He wouldn't have to think about Emma giving her vows or Neal kissing his bride or the damned wedding night.

"Bloody Hell!"

He kicked a can that was laying in the gutter, listening to it clatter as it struck the curb nearby. He stopped a moment to close his eyes and just breathe. He was close to the water, he knew he was. Every so often, he'd get a waft of salt air over the rank city smells, just a tease of cool wetness against his skin. He was closer now, much closer. He continued moving, until the buildings faded away, and the water was before him, and he saw the ferry boat approaching the dock.

He could at least be on a boat. That might help some.

Or not.

He stepped closer to the edge of the dock, glancing down at the darkened water below him. He watched the waves as they splashed against the dock, fascinated in a thoroughly drunken fashion,by the play of them, the in and out, the back and forth, the to and fro, the...

Splash!

He jumped back in reaction, dripping wet from head to toe. He'd forgotten about the ship approaching, but surely it wasn't going fast enough to have left that kind of wake. He passed a hand over his face to clear his eyes and that quickly, he realized it was raining.

It was raining, and he was now standing in a parking lot, and a minivan had just pulled up next to him, splashing him thoroughly. He walked over, peering in the window, only to see Emma behind the wheel.

"Get in!" she shouted.

He reached for the door, realizing with a smile that he had his left hand again, and slid into the passenger seat.

"Where's the equipment?" Emma asked in exasperation.

"Equipment?" Killian gave her a blank look.

"It's okay, Mom," Henry said from the back seat. "Coach Morgan locked it all up in the field house shed. He was headed back there, anyway."

"Close the door!" Emma said to Killian. "It's pouring a monsoon out there." He obliged her, still not entirely sure what was going on. Emma moved the minivan into the long line of traffic queuing up to get out of the parking lot. A large, empty field bordered the lot, and a few people were still milling around in the shed at the far end of the field. Killian glanced back at Henry, then decided he'd better get answers sooner rather than later.

"It's really coming down out there," he said conversationally.

"I'm glad I went to get the minivan before it got too bad," Emma said. She looked over at him apologetically. "You're really soaked."

"Oh, it's all right, love," he said. "I've been rained on before. Happened during a picnic once, as I recall."

Emma's eyes were on the line in front of her, as she nudged the minivan forward.

"A picnic?"

"On the ship," he explained. "Remember?"

Emma's fingers suddenly tightened on the wheel, and her eyes unfocused. Then she pulled in a deep breath. She turned her head to look at him.

"I remember."

Killian relaxed back into his seat, a feeling of being reprieved washing over him as he realized he wasn't to be subjected to a lifetime of Emma married to another man. Here they were, doing God knows what, but they were together. His relief was a tangible thing, seeping into his pores and almost making him want to put his head back and drift off, sated in it.

"So...where are we going?" he asked.

Henry's voice answered him.

"We might as well go home," Henry said. "It's not like we can do anything else in this weather. And it's taco night anyway."

"Well, we certainly couldn't miss that," Killian said. "Could we?"

He turned to Emma with a smile, realizing instantly that something was wrong. She had a very odd look on her face, and when she turned to look at him, the panic on her face brought him instantly alert. She shifted her eyes toward Henry, giving Killian a quick warning, and his answering look made it clear that he was waiting until she was ready to tell him whatever it was she had to say.

Henry requested the radio, so Emma put it on, and they drove for the next fifteen minutes with the music taking the place of conversation. At last, Emma pulled into a residential street in a well-manicured, suburban neighborhood, and then into a driveway in front of a white two-story house with blue trim and shutters.

She pushed a button on the ceiling of the vehicle, and the garage door opened, allowing them to pull inside and avoid running through the rain to the front door. She brought the garage door down behind them, and Henry jumped out, heading into the house. As he opened the door, a yellow labrador jumped out at him, and he laughed as he pushed the animal off him.

"Sam! Get off!" He patted his leg, signalling the dog to follow, and moved into the house. Killian opened his door, stepping out and waiting for Emma to come around from her side of the car. She walked up to him, holding her coat tight around her.

"Are you cold, love?"

She shook her head.

"Are you all right? How long have you been here?"

"Just since this morning. I remember sitting on the stands watching Henry play soccer, and you were off talking to some friends. Then it started to sprinkle so I went to pull the van up in case they called off practice." She straightened her shoulders. "Before that, I was feeding the ducks in the park with a friend who died years ago." She looked like she really didn't want to talk about that, so Killian changed the subject.

"So this is your house?" Killian looked around the garage. "It's spacious."

Emma took a breath in. She touched her tongue to her lips, briefly. Then she spoke.

"_Our_ house."

"You and Henry?"

"No. Me and Henry...and you."

His eyes widened. "What?"

Emma held up her left hand. "We're married, Killian. For nearly a year now."

Killian glanced down at his hand, and there was most definitely a golden wedding band on his finger. He stared at it, almost willing himself to remember the event that precipitated the wearing of it, but of course, he couldn't. This wasn't his dream.

And then he realized it...this was Emma's. Emma's dream. His head snapped up, and he looked at her.

"You...dreamed this? Us?"

She gave a little shrug, but it didn't dispel the weight of the meaning in her eyes. "You asked me once what my fantasy was."

He was absurdly, ridiculously pleased. "This?"

She nodded. "The house in the suburbs. The minivan. Henry and soccer practice and a dog and a nice, calm life." She smiled sheepishly. "I know that probably sounds really boring to you."

He stepped forward, sliding his hand behind her neck. "I could never be bored with you, Swan. I think it's a fine fantasy."

"That's not all."

"Are we filthy rich?"

She smiled. "We do all right. But I need to show you something." She reached out for his other hand, pulling it into her coat, where she set it right onto her obviously rounded belly.

Killian's eyes flew up to meet hers. She gazed at him a bit warily as the realization of what he was holding played across his face. His fingers shifted around, touching gently, tracing the circumference in a way that was almost reverential. He finally found his voice.

"Emma..." he swallowed hard, and then he pulled her into his arms, hard, holding her fiercely.

"Killian." Her voice was muffled against him.

"Emma, love..."

"Killian." She pushed against him. "I can't breathe. And you're squishing my belly."

He leapt back, instantly contrite. "I'm sorry!" He reached out, cupping her belly again. "Did I hurt it? The baby? Are you all right? Do you need me to carry you into the house?"

She let out a laugh. "Calm down. I'm fine."

He stared at her as if he still couldn't believe it, and really, he almost couldn't. They were married, and she was carrying his child.

"This is part of the fantasy, too?" he asked.

She looked at him steadily. "Yeah. I guess it is. You had to go and introduce me to our kids and I just couldn't get them out of my mind."

"Neither could I," he admitted.

"So now what?" she asked.

He gave her a lopsided smile. "Let's go eat some tacos."

###

"I've told you," Regina said. "I have no idea who this person is. I never met the man that Hook traded his ship to - I was busy helping you cast a curse, remember?"

She sat behind her office desk, drumming her fingers on the table.

"Why would he be showing up in your dreams?" Snow asked.

"Do you recall dreaming about this guy before?" Henry asked. "Maybe he's somebody you know, but from a long time ago."

"That is a possibility," David said. "The Jolly Roger came here from our realm."

Regina's forehead creased. "There was something familiar...but I can't put my finger on it." She took in a deep breath. "And this time, we were at a royal ball, and he was dogging my every step, before he decided to incinerate the place. I guess he's got no qualms about public murder/suicide."

"What's that?" Mr. Gold asked. He'd been sitting quietly, fingers steepled, musing to himself. "Murder/suicide?"

"He threw down a fire curse that burned us all alive," Regina informed him. "Quite a finish, I assure you."

Gold looked particularly grim. "A fire curse powerful enough to roast a room?"

"A ballroom. And everyone in it," Regina clarified. "But in the dreamscape, anyone could have that power."

"Yes," Gold agreed, "But would they think or even know how to properly use it? The dynamics of a curse that strong wouldn't be something an everyday man would know." He rose to his feet, walking slowly and thinking. He paused in front of the windows, turning to address the room.

"I too, dreamed of a strange man a few days ago, and you were present, Regina, as were Ms. Swan and the Captain. It was brief, and it ended badly - a murder/suicide when the man blew us all to bits with a vest full of dynamite."

"Did Emma and Hook give you any kind of message?" David asked.

Gold's eyes shifted away for a moment. "Suffice it to say that the dream was as unsettling for the Captain as it was for me. And the only thing communicated by either of them was the surety that they'd seen the man before. Just as they were about to identify him, he pulled the trigger, ending the dream."

"So he was there with me, as well," Regina said.

"It appears so," Gold agreed. "And I may have a way to jog your memory, where our mystery man is concerned."

###

Killian paced back and forth in front of the bathroom door. He stopped a moment to sit on the edge of the bed, then sprung to his feet when the door opened. Emma emerged, with her arms behind her back.

"Well?" he said, nervously.

"I didn't look," she replied, chewing her lip.

"Has enough time passed?"

She nodded. "It takes three minutes, according to the box."

He held out his hands. "Come on...let's have a look."

She held it out, deliberately looking away. "You look."

He reached for it, but she pulled it away. "Don't grab by that end! That's the end I peed on."

He made a face. "Thanks for the warning." He reached out, taking the stick gingerly from the other side, then holding it up. "Now...what am I looking for?"

"This one is simple. A plus sign if it's positive, a minus if it's negative."

He looked down at the stick in silence, and finally, Emma couldn't take it any longer.

"Well?"

He looked back up, and his face said it all. She fell into his arms and he folded her in, rocking her back and forth.

"We didn't need the stick, you know," he said. "I could have told you that your breasts were getting bigger."

She smiled, rubbing her face into his chest. "Henry wants a boy," she said quietly.

"'Course he does," Killian said. "Meriel has got him quite under her thumb. We both need another man in this house or we'll be forever at her mercies."

"This time, we get to the hospital two weeks ahead of my due date. I'm not having another baby in the middle of one of your sunset cruise tours."

"The passengers were quite supportive," Killian pointed out. "And I find it entirely fitting that our child was born on the water."

"Let's have this one someplace where I can get an epidural. Please."

He leaned down, brushing his lips softly against hers. "Anything you want, love. Anything."

Emma sighed. "I can't believe we're doing this again," she murmured.

Killian smiled, raising a brow. "At least this time, I can remember the sowing of that particular seed."

Emma wound her arms around his neck. "Mmmm. That great weekend in Bermuda."

"Really?" he looked pleased. "Yes, that was a very good weekend. A very..." he kissed her. "Very..." he kissed her again, pulling her tight into him and grinding slowly against her, "Very good weekend." His tongue slipped into her mouth and his hand came up, squeezing her breast.

"Let me know if I'm being too rough with these," he murmured, moving to her neck. Emma tilted her head to the side, giving him access.

"So far, so good," she said, her breath hitching a little as his other hand slid between her thighs. Her own hand moved slowly down his body, almost reaching its prize when the door to the bedroom flew open.

"Papa!" Meriel ran full-tilt for Daddy, as fast as her chubby toddler legs would take her. Killian reached down with one arm, swinging her up between them.

"You have terrible timing, little love," he said, nuzzling the back of her neck and making her giggle. Emma reached out for Meriel's hand, shaking it back and forth.

"You're going to be a big sister, Meriel," she said.

"Really?" Henry appeared in the doorway. "Now I know why it was taking so long to put the laundry away," he said, grinning. "So when are you due?"

"In the spring," Emma said. "And hopefully on dry land this time."

"Come on, Meriel," Henry said, stepping into the room and taking her from Killian. "Let's go get some crackers."

Meriel clapped her hands together with glee, looking around the room. "Extra?" she asked.

"Don't I always give you extra?" Henry said, ruffling her hair. "C'mon." He leaned over, kissing Emma on the cheek - he was taller than she was now.

"Congratulations. And don't think I'm not asking for a raise when I babysit." He gave her a wide grin as he shifted Meriel to his hip, and then closed the door behind them.

Killian pulled Emma back into his arms and she felt her body molding to his, rubbing and pressing into him as her lips played across the stubble under his jaw.

"Now then," he said, reaching for the hem of her tee shirt. "Where were we?"


	20. At Home With The Joneses

_**Hello, my darling readers. Whoa. It's been a rollercoaster couple of days here. Vegas was fun and I got an awesome, tiny tattoo (my first! It's a quill and ink squiggle, very small, and on the inside of my wrist) and I broke even money-wise. Then I opened my email and got word that one of my jobs is letting me go - it's a blog I've written for over four years, and a paying gig (which there aren't a lot of in the blog world), so this is a big setback and not happy for this single mom at all. *Sigh***_

_**But my pain is your gain, so it's time to lose myself in writing again. My world may not be rosey, but Killian and Emma are living the dream, literally. Let's get back to them, shall we? Oh, and to answer a couple of reader questions on the subject...time doesn't flow in any sort of linear pattern in the dreamscape. Have you ever had a dream that went on for hours or days and you wake up because the snooze went off on the alarm and you've only been dreaming for nine minutes? Yeah, it's like that. So Killian and Emma can be living minutes, or days, or months...or lifetimes. And with that, we'll continue where we left off.**_

* * *

><p>"You have your laptop cord and that lamp from your room, right?"<p>

"Yup." Henry picked up a box, moving it from the stack to the bed.

"And your allergy medicine?" Emma asked.

"It's in the medicine box - which contains pretty much every over-the-counter medicine known to man," Henry replied.

"Well, you can't be too safe," she insisted, turning to look around. "Where's your favorite blanket? The one Regina sent over? Killian - run back down to the car - "

"It's right here, love," he said, picking it up off the floor. "The lad has everything. And we need to be going - we've only paid the babysitter till nine."

"Yeah, I've been thinking about that. Maybe we should call and see if she can do an overnight..."

"Mom." Henry rolled his eyes. "It's okay. I've got everything. And you're only a few hours away - if I'm missing something, you can bring it next visit. Or ship it to me."

Killian raised his brows. "He's right."

Henry reached out, holding his mother by the shoulders. "Mom. It's okay. It's just college, and I'm going to be fine."

"I know that," Emma said firmly. Then her eyes promptly filled up with tears. "I know that," she said again. "You'll be fine. You will."

"Keep repeating it, love," Killian suggested gently. "It'll sink in, eventually, I promise."

"Okay," Emma said, looking around. "We're going to go. Just...uh...call if you need anything." She pulled Henry into her arms, hugging him tight.

"I will, Mom." He hugged her back, then moved to give Killian a hug.

Killian stepped back, clasping Henry's shoulder. "You'd better remember to call. And email."

"I will."

"Don't forget, you promised to read to Meriel one night a week through video chat," he reminded.

"I won't forget."

"Okay, then." Emma looked around once more. "Okay." She took a deep breath, nodding her head shakily. She stepped in, hugging Henry once again, and fiercely.

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Mom."

She turned and walked quickly through the door, before she lost it completely. Killian gave Henry a nod and turned to follow.

"Killian - take care of her." Henry's voice followed him to the door. Killian turned around, his own eyes a bit suspiciously moist.

"You have my word, Henry. Now get on with your life. Don't miss a second of it."

"Thanks." Henry closed the door gently behind them, took a deep breath, and went back to unpacking.

###

Killian reached for the soap, cursing when he dropped it on his foot. He'd been trying to stay as quiet as possible since Emma had been up so late the night before.

Between her and Henry (who had been emailing her back and forth), the presentation was now ready, and he and Henry were pitching to the bank tomorrow morning. Pirate Tours was branching out, taking on an entire line of adventure itineraries, and Henry was set to take over as CEO, once they were approved for the business loan. Killian would remain in charge of the seafaring tours aboard the Jolly, and five more guides would be hired to lead other package tours. This was mostly Henry's brainchild, and it was a good one. Considering how lucrative Pirate Tours had been, this had nowhere to go but up.

He straightened back to standing, holding the soap and idly rubbing his sore toe against the other leg when the shower doors slid open. Emma stepped inside, closing them behind her.

"Hey," she said, a little sleepily.

"What the devil are you doing up?" he asked. "It's still early."

"I know," she said, grabbing the soap and lathering her hands. "I'm not sleepy anymore."

She spread her hands across his chest, lathering the hair and rubbing him down toward his belly. Killian's eyes darkened as he reached for her hips.

"Oh really?"

She stepped in, rubbing her breasts against his soapy chest, her belly sliding against him. "Really."

"Are the children still abed?"

"Sound asleep," she murmured, kissing him along his jaw. He reached over his head, pulling down the portable showerhead and rinsing the soap off. Then he replaced it with some difficulty, as her fingers had just wrapped around him. He sucked in his breath.

"You will pay for that impertinence," he promised with a growl. Then he shut the water off and lifted her into his arms.

"Let me grab a towel!" she squawked.

"I'm not stopping," he said firmly, striding across the master bedroom. Then he tossed her down on the bed, bringing his wet body on top of hers. Both of them groaned at the sensation, and then his lips and hands were everywhere, stroking, pressing, turning her into a welter of wet and steam and wanting. He tortured her by sliding against her cleft, teasing her but not giving her what she craved, until her hands were pulling at his hair and her body was arching hard into him, begging him for it.

He drew back suddenly, flipping her onto her stomach and coming down against her back.

"Shall I take you like this, love? It's so deep this way..."

Emma made a mewling sound in response to both his words, and the fingers he'd snaked beneath her, teasing and circling the tender bud within her folds, lifting and pressing against it, flicking at it lightly with his fingers.

She raised up to her knees and he followed her lead, rearing back and holding onto her hips. He positioned himself against her, and then he wrapped his fist in her hair and slid himself in to the hilt. Her hips pushed backward, meeting him thrust for thrust as he slammed into her again and again, pulling noises from her that made her push her face into the pillow, unable to control the rawness of them, or her body's responses as his hips flexed against her, burying himself deep just like he promised. It seemed to go on endlessly, until her limbs were turning to jelly and the only thing left of her was the heat, and the feel of him within her. He escalated his rhythm, and she came apart, hands fisting in the sheets as her harsh cries muffled into the pillow, and as he followed her over the edge with a stifled groan of his own.

He collapsed against her and they were silent for a long while. When he rolled off her, she lay unmoving, but to his relief, still breathing.

"I think we need another shower," Emma's muffled voice said. She rolled onto her back. "I'm seeing stars."

He folded his arms behind his head with a satisfied sigh.

"I may be a businessman," he noted. "But I still make love like a pirate."

###

"What do you mean, he's not home yet?" Emma asked, with her hands on her hips.

"He went to the park because Gina Linville was there," Meriel said, looking up from her book. "Or maybe it was Olivia Witowski. Anyway, there was a girl there he was meeting."

"He's _ten_," Emma said flatly. "He shouldn't be meeting girls." She looked outside at the growing darkness. "He knows he's supposed to be back by now. He's going to end up good and grounded if he's not in the door in the next five minutes."

She had just turned to walk back into the kitchen when the door suddenly flew open. One look at Killian's face told her that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

"Emma."

"What is it? What's happened?" She ran forward, stopping in front of him.

"It's Finn," he said grimly. "There was an accident. Get your coat, love - they've taken him straight to the hospital."

"What?"

"He was on his bicycle, and a car came 'round the corner too fast. They didn't have time to stop. He's in the ambulance now." He reached out, pulling her in and hugging her. "He's alive, but we won't know the extent of it until we get there."

She held him tightly for a moment, then turned to look at Meriel, who was standing in the hall with a stricken look on her face. She walked over, folding her daughter into her arms.

"He'll be okay, Meriel. He'll be okay," she crooned. And she was saying it to herself as much as she was to her daughter.

They made it to the hospital in record time, Killian driving with nearly superhuman reaction time, weaving between traffic to get them there faster. They ran in the doors of the emergency room, and tracked down a nurse who told them that Finn had been taken directly to be prepped for surgery. They slogged their way through the paperwork, answering all the pertinent questions with an edgy impatience that bordered on anger.

Finally, the doctor stepped through the doors.

"Mr. and Mrs. Jones?"

"Yes!" Emma said, walking over to him. "How is he? Can we see him?"

"He's being moved right now - if you'll come with me, I can let you see him a moment before we begin."

"Is he going to be all right?" Meriel was almost afraid to ask.

"Well, his helmet was thrown off, so he did sustain a head injury. He hasn't regained consciousness, but we've seen no sign of any fractures to the skull or bleeding on the brain. He took most of the impact on his left side, resulting in a broken clavicle, arm and two cracked ribs. He has a ruptured spleen that we're going to have to remove."

Emma brought a hand to her mouth, and her eyes were nearly blinded by tears. Killian's hand came to rest on her shoulder as he reached out and pulled his daughter under his other arm.

"So he'll be all right, then?" Killian asked.

"We'll need to assess him for other internal injuries while we're in there, and even though there's no fracture to the skull, he could be very badly concussed," the doctor said. "We won't know the full extent of that damage until he wakes up. We're going to do our best for him."

"Thank you," Emma said, finding it hard to push the words past the knot in her throat.

The doctor motioned them through a set of doors, and into a large room, lined with beds. A curtain had been pulled in one corner for privacy.

"He's here while they prep the room," the doctor said. "You can only see him for a few minutes."

Killian gave him a nod and pushed through the curtain, completely unprepared for the sight of his son, bloody and abraded, lying still as death with tubes in his arms and machines beeping softly.

Emma reached out, sliding her fingers through his silky-fine hair.

"Finn..." she kissed his forehead softly. "Honey, everything's going to be okay. We're all here. You're in the hospital, but you're going to be fine."

She squeezed his hand, and Meriel moved forward to squeeze the other. "Hey," she said to her brother. "At least you didn't scrape your face." She forced a smile, but utterly destroyed the effect by choking back a sob. Killian moved forward, wrapping his arms around her.

"He's going to be all right, love. They just need to tend to him. We'd best let them see to that."

Meriel gave a nod and watery hiccup, and Emma reached out for her hand. She leaned in, kissing Finn's forehead once more.

"We'll be here when you wake up," she said. "I love you."

She led her daughter out, and Killian lingered, his hands curled into fists at the sheer helplessness of this moment. He stepped over to his son's side, reaching out a hand and setting it lightly on his son's head.

"Finn...come back to us, lad. Please. We love you so."

He swallowed hard, took a breath, and for the first time in his misbegotten life, he prayed.

###

"Emma." Killian's urgent whisper brought her instantly awake in her chair. She looked over at him, slightly bleary-eyed. He nudged her, grinning, then pointed over at Finn in the hospital bed.

"He's awake!" She leaned forward, squeezing her son's hand. "Hey...Finn? Finn? Can you understand me, honey?"

The boy's head moved restlessly on the pillow, and he swallowed, smacking his lips together.

"Thirsty," he croaked.

Emma got up and poured him some water from the pitcher on a nearby table, adjusting the straw so that he could drink. Finn took a few sips, then laid his head back against the pillow, closing his eyes.

"Feel fuzzy," he slurred a bit, struggling to open his eyes again.

"Just relax, my boy," Killian said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You've been in an accident. Do you remember it?"

Finn tried to nod, but winced. "My head hurts."

Emma looked up at the clock on the wall. "You're about due for some pain medication," she said. "I'll go get the nurse." She headed out through the door, and Killian pulled up a chair, sitting next to his son.

"Do you know who I am?" Killian asked.

Finn's eyes opened. "You're my Papa. That's a stupid question." He closed his eyes again.

"They told us to ask you questions," Killian said, smiling widely. Finn's spunk was definitely still there. "Do you remember how you got hurt?"

"A car," Finn replied. "It hit me. I was on the side of the road, by the park. I saw something in the flower beds and I'd just gotten it and climbed on my bike when they hit me. I didn't have time to get my helmet fastened."

"That explains your sore head," Killian said. "But I'm pleased to hear you can remember it. They say you have a concussion, so you're going to feel a bit addled for a while. You've a few broken bones to go with that, as well."

Finn tried to raise his arm and winced again. "Really?" he glanced down at his cast. "That's awesome."

Killian shook his head, smiling. "No, it's not. You gave your mother and me quite a fright. Your sister, however, is going through your things and moving into your room."

"If she touches my Playstation..."

Killian held up a conciliatory hand. "I'm only joking. You need to get better, though, so you're going to be here for a little while."

He looked up, as Emma had just come through the door with the nurse. She checked his bandages, clicked a penlight into his eyes to check his pupils, and then calmly administered more pain medicine into Finn's IV, and reminded them both before leaving that he needed to get some rest.

"He was digging for something in the dirt and had only just gotten back on his bike when the car hit," Killian explained. "He remembers it all, though."

Emma smiled, leaning over to kiss Finn's head. "Just relax, honey. Let the medicine do its job."

"'kay..." Finn mumbled sleepily. "Sorry, Mom. Didn't mean to worry you."

"What was so important that you had to stop in the road for?"

"I found a ring," Finn smiled. "It was in the dirt. It's in my pocket."

"Well, your jeans are trashed, but they did give them back. I'll put the ring someplace safe till you get out of here," Emma promised.

Finn's eyes slid closed. "Thanks, Mom," he said, and then he was asleep again.

"I called Henry. He's bringing Meriel over now," she said, leaning over and wrapping her arms around Killian from behind. She let out a big whoosh of air. "He's going to be okay."

Killian reached up, rubbing her arm where it lay across his chest. "Oh, it'd take a lot more than that to damage his resolve. Or his thick, Jones skull." '

Emma nuzzled her face into his neck, kissing him. "Would you like some coffee?"

"I suppose the hospital won't serve rum."

"Nope. Caffeine will have to do it for you."

"Then coffee it is."

Emma kissed him again before walking out the door, and he turned back to his son, reaching out to stroke his arm. He closed his eyes.

"Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you."


	21. Secrets And Silences

"Just lie back, Regina, and try to clear your mind," Mr. Gold encouraged. "Then look carefully at the pendant as it swings."

Regina was lying on her back on the couch in her office, closing her eyes a moment and breathing slowly in and out.

"So...what? You're going to hypnotize her?" David asked.

"Not exactly," Gold said. "This is much more than hypnosis." He held up the pendant. "This is an enchanted pendant, made expressly for retrieving memories. With it, we may be able to learn a little more about Regina's unwelcome visitor."

"If I remember him at all," Regina pointed out. "I told you, I don't recall ever seeing this guy before."

Gold gave her a look. "Leave that up to me. If he's in there...we'll find him."

Regina closed her eyes obediently.

"Now..." said Gold. "Concentrate on his face..."

Regina's forehead creased, and then she opened her eyes, staring hard at the pendant. David turned his head slowly as the walls of the room began to fluctuate, yawing in and out until they finally dissolved.

"What the...?"

"Shhh." Gold said. "Just observe."

Suddenly, they were in a room, in a castle. A conversation was coming through one of the doorways, and Regina was there - younger, with longer hair, standing at the window, looking out

Present-day Regina sat up slowly, walking over to her younger self. She turned back to look at Gold.

"This is my parent's castle - before I married Leopold," she said. "My mother was talking to someone. I heard my name, and looked to see who was there, briefly, but I was busy watching Daniel - he was re-shoeing my horse."

"You may not actively remember the conversation behind you," Gold said quietly. "But you did hear it."

She turned back around, walking to the doorway, and David came over to join her. She met his eyes as he realized he was listening to Cora.

_"I've told you...there's a plan in place. Regina will be a queen."_ Cora's voice was emphatic.

_"I can give her that,"_ said a man's voice in reply. _"I have the power to make her anything she wants to be - you know that."_

David leaned around the doorway, looking in. He stared at the man a moment, then looked at Regina, shrugging. "I don't know him."

"He's the one," Regina said. "From the dreams."

Cora let out a laugh. _"Foolish man! Regina doesn't know what's best! If I gave her what she wanted, she'd be living in a stable with her beloved horse for the rest of her life."_

"Do you know who he is?" David asked Regina.

Regina shook her head, then turned to look back at Gold. "You?"

Gold stood motionless, his eyes narrowed. "I know him."

Regina raised a brow. "And...?"

"Morpheus." Gold said the name like an epithet.

Regina's head swung back around as Cora continued.

_"My daughter isn't for sale,"_ Cora said. _"At least, not to you."_

_"And if she doesn't do as she's bid?"_ he asked._ "She tried to escape you before."_

_"Regina will do as she's told,"_ Cora replied coldly.

He eyed her in a very calculating way. _"And if she's training with Rumpelstiltskin, she could become a very powerful adversary. What then? You'll need a way to remove her, and I can see to it she's well cared for. Our interests can be aligned."_

Cora laughed. _"She's no threat to me."_

Morpheus inclined his head. _"You know where to find me when you change your mind." _He shimmered and then vanished.

A moment later, Cora and Young Regina winked out of existence. David folded his arms, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"So this...Morpheus - he wanted to marry you?" he asked Regina.

Regina shook her head. "I don't know. I suppose so. I had a lot of suitors in those days - my mother refused them all. He was just another one of the pack to me."

"How long has he been appearing in your dreams?" Gold asked.

"Well," Regina touched the tip of her tongue to her lip, thinking. "Recently, it's been a lot more frequent, but now that I've seen him again in flesh...I've seen him off and on for a long time. Years, maybe."

"As you know, Morpheus spends most of his time in the dreamscape, ever since he trapped himself there." Gold said. "He can only take corporeal form and exist in the real world for short periods of time. He exists between worlds, never fully realized in either.

"But he's from our realm," David said. "Did he solidify just long enough to create a portal and get here?"

"The ship," Regina said.

Gold nodded. "The captain's ship is not only the fastest in all the realms, but it's made from enchanted wood. Within the ship, Morpheus would have been able to sustain himself in a solid state for a longer period of time."

"So he brought the sphere here to try and trap Regina himself," David said.

"No." Regina sat down on the couch, tucking her hair behind her ear. "The sphere was with my mother's things in a trunk on board." She looked up at Gold. "Obviously, at some point, she had decided he was right, and was planning on using it on me."

"Most likely when she returned to Storybrooke," Gold suggested. "But when she saw an opportunity to take me down, she delayed her plans to enlist your help."

"And when Morpheus realized she'd changed her mind, he took matters into his own hands, and came to find you." David finished. "So now what?"

"We have to figure out how to stop a man who's trapped between two worlds," Regina said. "And we have to do while he's lurking in both."

###

Henry's voice came from the other side of the partition. "Mom," he called out. "It's time."

Emma turned to Meriel. "Just one more thing," she said, reaching up to put the diamond studs through Meriel's earlobes.

"Something borrowed," she said. "You've got your blue garter, your wedding gown is new, and that pendant is very old. You're set." She stepped back, then took a deep breath, fanning at her eyes. "I promised I wouldn't cry all the way through this," she apologized.

"It's okay, Mom," Meriel said, clasping her hands.

"I'd better go sit down so you have some time to deal with your father," Emma said, looking over her shoulder. "He' looks like he needs a drink."

Meriel bit her lip to keep from laughing. "He does, doesn't he?"

"I love you," Emma said, kissing her cheek very carefully so as not to get lipstick on it. She walked over and looped her arm through Henry's. "Come on, Henry. The sooner we finish this, the sooner we can all drink."

"You look beautiful, Meriel," Henry said, peeking his head around before leading his mother around the privacy screen set up at the bow. Meriel looked across at her father, who was gripping the railing, looking out over the water.

"Papa," she said. "It's almost time."

"I know." His voice was soft. "I know it is, love."

She walked up behind him. "I'm all dressed. You can turn around now."

"Not without a hell of a lot of rum, I can't," he replied, but he turned anyway. He gave her a long perusal, then cleared his throat.

Then he cleared it again.

"Bloody hell, Meriel, are you _sure_ about this?"

"Absolutely," she said, without the slightest hesitation. "I've grown up knowing what real love looks like my entire life," she kissed him on the cheek. "I don't have a doubt in my mind."

"There's no rush, you know," he reminded her. "You can be in love for as long as you like...and still live at home."

"Papa." She gave him a look he knew only too well.

"You look like your mother when you do that," he grumbled.

"Maybe," she agreed. "But I've got enough of my father in me to go after what I want with everything I've got."

Outside on the deck the music swelled, and Meriel took her father by the hand.

"It's time, Papa."

He nodded, pulling her in and holding her tight. "You'll always be my greatest treasure, little love."

"I know." She blinked hard. "Don't make me cry. I'll trip up the stairs and fall into the wheel."

"Well, we can't have that." He tucked her arm in his. "Your mother would have my head."

"Just a few more minutes," she reminded him with a smile, "And the reception will start and you can be drinking."

He led her from behind the screen, out to the aisle runner set up on the deck, and then he leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"Save me a dance, love."

"Always, Papa. Always."

###

Killian's hand came down to rest on Finn's shoulder. His other hand reached down, handing him a flask.

"Drink up, my lad. Do it now, because once they're home from the hospital, you're going to need all your wits about you."

"That was _brutal_," Finn said dazedly, leaning back in his chair.

Killian nodded. "And they call them the fairer sex. It's only to lure us into thinking we're stronger. If men had to give birth, the human race would've died out before it had even begun."

Finn looked across at his wife, now sleeping peacefully in her hospital bed. He still couldn't believe he was a father.

"Having a hard time wrapping your head around the enormity of it, are you?" Killian asked with a knowing grin. "Are you wondering whose idea it was that you in any way qualified to be responsible for another human life?"

"Killian..." Emma gave him a look.

Finn swallowed hard, then took another drink of rum. "Bloody hell," he whispered.

The nurse came in, pushing a bassinet. "He's not due for a feeding quite yet," she said, "But he's awake and since you have the rest of your family is here, I thought they might like to meet him." She gave them a smile, and stepped back out of the room.

"Oh my God..." Emma said, her face breaking into a huge grin. "_Look_ at him!" She picked the baby up carefully, staring down at his face. "He looks like a little Finn all over again." She made cooing noises, rubbing her face against the baby's, and in reply, the baby reached out, gripping her hair in his fist.

Killian walked over, helping her disentangle. "Let's have a look at you, then," he said to his grandson. "There's that strong Jones jawline. Perfectly devastating blue eyes...his hair is lighter, though."

Emma smiled, looking down at the baby again. "He looks like a Jones, all right."

Killian took the baby from her, then leaned down, placing the baby in Finn's arms.

"Careful - " Emma warned. "Don't forget to support his head."

Finn gave her a shaky nod, then looked down at his son, breaking into a long, slow grin. Killian put his hand on his son's shoulder again.

"You'll get the hang of it, Finn," he said. "Welcome to the greatest adventure of your life."

###

"I don't even know where to begin," Killian remarked, looking around at the piles of ripped paper, open boxes and plastic packaging strewn wall-to-wall across the room. "Perhaps we should just torch the place and move away."

"You're the one who wanted to host Christmas here this year," Emma reminded him. "And with seven grandkids, that's a lot of Christmas."

"Well, at least if we have to demolish, no one will notice the noise - not over this din, anyway."

"Let's make a rule," Emma suggested. "No more toys with noise. Ever." She smirked, looking over at the older kids crowded around the gaming station, cheering each other on, while the younger ones were bowling with a light-up musical ball and plastic pins down the hallway.

"Or we stock up on wine for the adults," Killian suggested.

"I could use a shot of rum after being on my knees all morning," Emma said with a groan.

"You? I'm the one with the bad back, giving all the horsey rides," Killian said. "I can barely straighten up."

"We'll survive," Emma said, smiling. "They're only young once."

"It's chaos, pure and simple," Killian said. He reached out, pulling her in and kissing her head. "And I wouldn't have it any other way, love."

###

Killian reached for the car keys, then headed back up the stairs to check on his wife. If they didn't get out the door, they were going to be late.

"Emma," he called out as he stepped through the bedroom door. "Your granddaughter is graduating in precisely forty minutes and if we don't get out of here, we're - "

He stopped short in the doorway to the bathroom, at the sight of Emma, sprawled across the floor.

"Emma!" he dropped to his knees next to her, cradling her close to him, calling her name over and over, but Emma didn't respond.

###

"You understand, a stroke this catastrophic is very difficult to recover from, " the doctor said soberly. "Mr. Jones, it's really impossible to call at this point."

Killian nodded, not really able to speak. He felt Finn's hand on his shoulder and Meriel's hand at his back. Henry was holding his mother's hand as she lay still, so still in the bed.

"Even if she _can_ recover," the doctor continued, "her life will be very different from now on. Since the stroke was centered in her left brain, she'll most likely have lost the power to speak. She'll need extensive therapy to recover that and any motor skills she's lost. There may also be memory loss, and other lingering effects." He put her clipboard back on the hook at the foot of her bed and then turned to go, pausing in the doorway.

"We'll do all we can, Mr. Jones."

Killian took in a breath, finding his voice. "Thank you."

Then he moved over to the other chair next to Emma's bed, took her hand, and waited.

###

It was close to four in the morning when something made him open his eyes. He'd been holding Emma's hand, his head on the bed next to her, dozing lightly. The children had all gone home a few hours before, but would be returning in the morning. He raised his head up, more than a little bleary-eyed, and tried to focus.

Then he felt it - the slightest twitch of her hand. His eyes flew to her face and locked with hers.

She was awake.

He reached out, stroking her face and hair. "Emma, love...you're at the hospital. You've had a stroke, but the doctors are taking care of everything."

She closed her eyes briefly, as if absorbing this. Then her eyes opened again, slowly. He could see her lips working, struggling to form words, but failing miserably.

"You can't speak just yet, love," he said. "It's all right, though. It'll be all right."

Emma's eyes closed again, and he thought for a moment she might have drifted off, but eventually, and with great effort, she opened them again. This time, she moved her hand, very slowly and deliberately up her body to her chest.

"Are you all right, love?" Killian asked. "Are you in pain?"

She gave the slightest, almost imperceptible shake of her head, and then she closed her eyes again for a moment. He felt her pull in a deep breath, then she opened her eyes again. She moved her hand, tapping her fingers just over her heart, and then she slid her hand back down, and across the bed, reaching up to touch his chest. Her eyes locked with his.

And he could see that the light was dying in them.

"No..." he begged, hoarsely. "No. No, love, not yet. Not yet. It isn't time yet. Please. A lifetime isn't enough. It isn't. Stay with me. Stay with me, love." He held her hand tightly, as if to infuse her with his own life-force. "Please, Emma, please. Not yet."

She gave him a small, half-smile - one side of her face not accommodating - and then she closed her eyes.

"Emma! Emma!" he leaned in, kissing her face, her forehead. "Please, love. Please." Her breathing grew slower, shallower, and he knew there was no running from this. He kissed her one last time, softly.

"I'll see you on the other side, love."

And then he put his head on her stomach, and he wept.

Half an hour later, she quietly slipped away, and when he opened his eyes, he was in a land of snow and ice.


	22. Icy Certainty

_**Hello Readers - and welcome back to yet another scenario. It's hard letting go, isn't it? I knew from the moment I started planning out some of these scenes that I wanted Emma to be a minivan-driving soccer Mom at some point, and then I realized that she was forever yearning for just that: normalcy and family and a lifetime of love. I figured she (and Killian) deserved that. (Side note: You think you were crying? Please.)**_

_**Let's see what the dreamscape holds for them now...**_

* * *

><p>Killian lay face down in the snow for a very, very long time, to the point where his fingers and nose were going numb with the cold. He welcomed the feeling, the numbness, wishing he could lose himself in it in the aftermath of what he'd just been through. The ache in his chest wasn't going away, and he wondered if this was what death was like, cold, unrelenting, emptiness and pain and hollowness inside. He balled his hand into a fist, digging into the snow when the realization struck him.<p>

He only had one hand.

He raised his head slowly, as if in a stupor, pushing his chest up off the snow. He looked down at his hook, and his thoughts came together slowly, as if moving through thick syrup, struggling to find their way through everything that filled his head.

This was his life. A hook for a hand. A pirate, a ship...and...Storybrooke. It all seemed so very long ago. A lifetime ago. And then he'd lost Emma and...

Emma!

He could find her again.

He reached in his vest pocket, happy to feel the compass there, waiting for him. He pulled it out, staring curiously at his reflection in the gold of the back side. He was young again and it took some getting used to, seeing himself that way. He turned his face from one side to the other, studying it, running his hook lightly across the beard on his chin, which showed no signs of even a single stray gray hair.

"Damn," he remarked to himself. "I nearly forgot what a handsome devil I was...am," he hastily corrected himself. He flipped the compass over, getting a bearing, and began to make his way through the thigh-deep snowdrifts, his greatcoat tangled around him, pulling him down as he walked. It was slow going and more than a little exhausting.

He finally broke through the trees, and stood shaking in the middle of the road, his face a mask of incredulity when he saw the twin peaks ahead, and the castle between them. He knew it all to well.

He slowly turned around as he heard the sleigh pull up behind him, pasting a smile on his face and forcing his voice to remain steady.

"Jadis," he said, with a deferential nod. "How lovely to see you again."

She pulled her white fur cloak about her shoulders, studying him with a tight, supercilious smile playing about her lips.

"My dear captain," she said. "Welcome back to Narnia."

###

He looked around the icy throne room, stalling for time.

"Love what you've done with the place," he said. "It's quite...homey."

"It's been a long time," Jadis said, inclining her head. "You left rather abruptly, as I recall."

Killian rubbed his ear, trying to mask his discomfort. "Yes, well...I was quite busy. Had a bit of a full schedule. You know how it is."

"Indeed." She looked down her nose at him. "And as much as I'm enjoying our chat, I have things to see to. Perhaps a taste of my hospitality will...warm you up."

"Jadis - "

She waved him off. "Ginarrbrik!"

A dwarf shuffled forward, and when he raised his head, Killian gave a visible start at the sight of Morpheus.

"You!"

Morpheus gave a whistle, and a pack of wolves appeared, pushing and snapping at him as they maneuvered him down a long, icy staircase.

"Wait!" Killian called out, "Jadis, wait!"

She kept on walking, not even bothering to acknowledge him. He swung his head back around, waving his hook threateningly at the wolves to keep them at bay.

"You're outnumbered," Morpheus said. "You can't fight them off for long."

"Where are you taking me?" Killian demanded. "Are you going to kill me again?"

Morpheus smiled at him, as though he were a child. "I don't have to. Jadis will do it, eventually."

He unlocked a cell door, pushing Killian inside and then locking it behind him. "Stay here, and don't interfere," Morpheus warned. "And just maybe you'll get to...enjoy your stay in Narnia."

He gave a soft chuckle, then left, bringing the wolves with him. Killian stepped back to survey his surroundings, when he heard the noise. It was more like a whimper, really, and very faint, followed by a scratching sound. He moved around one of the icy columns that appeared to be holding up the frozen ceiling, and that's when he saw her.

"Emma!" He rushed over, sliding on his knees to get next to her. She was shackled at her feet, and laying on her side, huddles for warmth, with her knees pulled up to her chest. Her eyes opened, and with great difficulty, focused on him.

"K-Killian?"

"Emma!" He chafed her arms and hands, pulling her in close to get her warm. "Hold on," he said, leaning back to pull off his coat and wrapping it around her before he folded her back into him again.

"I'm so c-cold," she stammered, rubbing her face into his chest.

"It's all right, love," he said. "We'll keep each other warm." He dropped a kiss on top of her head. "How did you come to be here? Do you remember?"

"I was in Storybrooke," Emma said. "Regina and I were having a drink, talking about a c-custody schedule for Henry." She took a few, deeper breaths, sinking into his warmth. "Then a sound came from upstairs and I went up to investigate. I saw Henry's backpack laying next to a wardrobe and I stepped into it. I ended up knee-deep in snow and b-before I could find him, I got attacked by a Morpheus, dressed as a dwarf, along with a wolf and a minotaur." She looked up at him. "I've never seen a minotaur before."

"They smell."

"Tell me about it." She laid her head tiredly against his shoulder. "Where the hell are we?"

"Narnia."

She scrunched up her face. "Isn't that supposed to be a happy place, with dancing, sardine-eating animals and stuff?"

He raised a brow. "I don't know where you heard your stories of Narnia," he said, "But the Narnia I know has been under the subjugation of the White Witch for decades." He glanced around. "Well, at least you haven't been here long enough to freeze to death. How are your fingers and toes?"

"Stinging like a bitch."

He smiled. "I know it's painful, but that's actually a good sign." He reached down, rubbing her fingers, then he brought them up to his mouth for a kiss. "No frostbite."

"Yet," she qualified.

"How long have you been down here?"

"Hard to say. A day...maybe more. You know how it is with time when we're in these things."

He reached out, touching her face. "I'm well aware of the passage of time," he said. "Did you come right here?"

She looked a little confused. "Did I...?" Her face slowly showed her realization. "Oh. Ohhhh." She reached up, putting a hand around his neck. "You just came here from...then?"

He stared at her. "Yes. Do you remember?"

"Some of it," she said. "It's a little fuzzy around the edges, though."

He nodded. "It's likely not as clear for you since it was your dream."

She gave him a smile. "It's clear enough that I remember some good parts."

"I just watched you take your last breath," Killian said, closing his eyes.

"Oh, Killian," her eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry." She pulled him in close, holding him tight. "That was a long time ago for me. I spent a few months back in Boston as a crazy cat lady - I had nine of them - and then I was back in the Enchanted Forest, helping Cinderella with her wedding, sewing her dress with a team of mice, until I was suddenly flat on my back in a hospital bed - "

"A hospital?" Killian stopped her. "Wait a minute - we've seen that a few too many times for it to entirely be coincidence."

Emma's eyes widened. "The last time we were together was in - "

"- a hospital," Killian finished. "And before that - we had that time with Finn and the accident. And let's not forget our good friend Morpheus who blew us apart."

"In a hospital," Emma said.

"The very first time I saw you here, we were in a hospital."

"That's a lot of hospitals," Emma said. "We need to get out of here. We need to find Regina. This is her dream. Can you get me out of these?" She lifted her ankles apart and Killian made short work of helping her shear through the manacles with his hook. He helped her to her feet.

"Did Regina come with you?" Killian asked.

"She was right behind me, but when she saw the Minotaur, she poofed out of there." She studied the bars of the cell. "How do we break through ice this thick?"

"Leave that to me, Swan." He drew back his arm, ready to use his Hook, when Morpheus appeared again, this time with Henry, bound and being pushed before him. He waved his hand, thawing the lock on the cage and shoving Henry in unceremoniously.

"There now," he said. "Just be a good boy and wait there."

"Mom!" Henry ran to her, hugging her tight.

"Henry! You're all right!" She looked over at Morpheus. "What are you doing with him?"

Morpheus shrugged. "He was remarkably easy to lure here. They never can resist the Turkish Delight," he said. "Now we wait and see if Regina will follow."

"She will," Henry said firmly. "And when she gets here..."

"She'll have to face Jadis," Morpheus interjected. "And there's more than a bit of bad blood between them. Not to mention Jadis is quite the formidable foe - not someone you'd want to cross."

"Don't I know it," Killian said, raising his brows.

"You've met this...Jadis?" Emma asked.

"I had the misfortune of finding my way here, quite by accident, many years ago. Jadis decided I might be entertaining for an evening, and I was too young and too stupidly willing for my own good. It ended badly and I barely escaped with my life."

Morpheus gave a chuckle. "Yes, Jadis takes a great deal of pleasure in the pain of others. Most don't survive an encounter with her. Again, Regina would have to be uncommonly motivated to stand against her."

Emma's eyes narrowed. "You're testing her."

Morpheus smiled. "Yes, I am. I need to draw her out."

"Draw her out? To where?"

He smiled, but said nothing. He merely turned to go.

"You're trying to get her to the sphere!" Emma said. "You want her in here with us! Pulled into the sphere like we were!"

He looked back over his shoulder. "There's a fallacy in that statement," he said in a maddening way. "But I'll leave it to your companion to explain that. I can hear someone coming."

He turned and left the room by a side passage, and a moment later Regina came running down the steps.

"Henry!" She did a double-take. "Hook? Where did you come from?"

"I ran into him here," Emma said, thinking fast. "I saw him at the hospital."

Regina looked at her strangely. "Hospital? There are no hospitals in Narnia."

"No," Killian said. "But there should be. There really should be a hospital."

"I don't have time for this," Regina said. "We have to get out of here." She waved her hand, and the cage door shattered. Emma grabbed Henry's hand and ran for the steps - only to be brought up short by the sight of Jadis, with Morpheus close behind her, entering the room from the tunnel.

"Regina," she said demurely. "How delightful of you to visit."

"Jadis." Regina said her name like it burned her mouth. "We were just leaving. Call off your dogs."

"I cannot allow two sons of Adam and two daughters of Eve to simply walk through Narnia. You know that." She smiled slowly. "Your powers are diminished here. You cannot stand against me."

"Ladies," Killian said, stepping between them. "Please. We can work this out." He looked over at Emma. "I'm sure Jadis didn't mean to _draw you away_ from home, Regina."

"If I wanted any noise out of you, Captain," Jadis said with a raised brow, "I'd have you manacled down naked on a block of ice and I'd be wielding my whip again."

"_What?_" Emma asked in disbelief.

"Not now, Swan," he said, waving her off. "I'm sure Regina refuses to be drawn out, especially if Henry could be in danger."

Emma nodded, getting back on board. "Yes, that's right. Regina, don't let her - or him -" she pointed over at Morpheus, "Draw you into something. Henry could end up in the hospital."

"Enough!" Morpheus said, giving them a warning look.

"We're done here," Jadis said, in a bored tone. And before Emma could shout a warning, Jadis pulled her scepter back and rammed it at Regina, freezing her in place, and Morpheus waved his hand, bringing the ice columns down, sending shards of ice raining all around them. Emma threw herself over Henry, shielding him with her body, and when she looked up again, she was crouched over a pillow.

And it was blazing hot.


	23. The Heat Of The Moment

Regina sat up in bed, panting. She ran a shaky hand through her hair, then pulled the covers up around her, trying to get warm. The fragments of the dream played around in her brain. She concentrated, trying to sort through the muddle and pull out something viable.

Jadis. Why she was dreaming of Jadis, she didn't know. They'd had a bad encounter once and it had ended in a draw that nearly killed them both. They'd made a point to stay out of each other's way since then.

She turned in the bed, putting her feet to the floor, but still pulling the blanket with her - she wasn't going to shake this chill anytime soon. She reached for the notepad and pen on the table next to her bed, reviewing as much as she could remember of the dream.

Narnia. Cold. Henry and Emma. Hook. A...dwarf? Wait - the dwarf was Morpheus. Emma had warned her about him. She'd said not to be "drawn out." What the hell did that mean. And the hospital. That figured prominently, she was sure of it. Hook had repeated it. There was something else...Regina tapped the side of her head, willing the memory to come, running through the dream once more in her mind.

"Henry!" Her head snapped up. Henry was in danger - Emma had warned her. Regina reached for her phone, dialing it quickly. She tapped her fingers impatiently, waiting for it to ring through.

"Hello?" Snow's voice came in a hushed tone over the line.

"Snow - is Henry there? Is he all right?"

"I - he's downstairs," Snow replied, with more than a little confusion. "Regina, it's the middle of the night. I was up with the baby, but everyone's asleep."

"Can you check? I just got a message from Emma and Hook, and it involves Henry."

"I - I suppose so," there was a moment of mumbling as Regina heard Snow conversing with David - who had obviously just woken up - in the background. "David's going to check on him now."

"Thank you." Regina said, her hand gripping the blanket tighter around her. She didn't have long to wait.

"Regina?"

"David?"

"Tell me what you know."

"Where is he? Is he safe?" She couldn't keep the fear out of her voice.

"Henry's gone."

###

Emma laid there, just letting the heat seep into her bones. It felt so good to be warm, and on the plus side, she was laying on an overstuffed pillow instead of a pile of ice. She could feel the sun on her back and it felt wonderful.

She pushed up off the pillow, finally, deciding it time to figure out what was going on, and found herself on a balcony, overlooking what appeared to be a colorful market with vendor tents and carts and people in colorful robes and dresses were pushing camels and donkeys through the crowds around the food purveyors. She turned her head right and left, taking in the marbled tiles and walls of the enormous palace she appeared to be standing in, and got another realization.

She was wearing a veil. It had flapped a bit in the breeze as she turned, and she stopped to look down at herself.

"I'm a...harem girl?" She wrinkled her nose, not sure what to think of this one, when the sound of a door opening came from the room inside. She flattened herself against the wall by the entrance to the balcony, waiting.

And a moment later, Killian walked out onto the balcony. He was wearing his pants, vest and shirt, having doffed off his greatcoat in deference to the heat.

"Killian!" She rushed forward and as he turned, he broke into a slow, sexy smile.

"Well, hello there," he said. "Aren't you a surprise." He stepped forward, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger. "I wasn't expecting a blonde. Where did they find you?"

He reached for her middle and she sidestepped him, with a nervous laugh. "Hold on," she said. "Let's talk, okay?"

He wet his lips, still smiling. "Talk?"

"Yeah. We need to...get to know each other."

"I'm trying to do precisely that," he explained, his eyes taking in her bare midriff and low cut top. "You were sent here for my pleasure, after all. The sultan gifts me with one of you every time I visit." He reached out again, running the backs of his fingers along her belly. "I've never had one as lovely as you, though."

"_Gifts_ you?"

"I did him a favor a few years ago."

"That must've been some favor."

His eyes darkened. "It was, indeed. And now I reap the rewards." He slid an arm around her, pulling her in, and before she could think to speak, he'd removed her veil and his mouth had captured hers in a long, slow, deep kiss that made her toes curl. He moved on, trailing his lips down her throat.

"I know you're meant to pleasure me, love," he murmured, "but I am more than happy to reciprocate..."

His hand slid into waistband of her harem pants, then moved downward to tease and stroke. It took all of Emma's strength and willpower to pull that hand away and step back.

"Killian," she panted.

"I'll have you moaning that name in a minute, love," he said, reaching for her again. "We'll talk after, I promise."

"Is this all you ever did?" she asked. "First the pirate ship and now this..."

"What?" He looked at her in confusion.

Emma sighed, plopping down on a pile of pillows. "We've met before."

He dropped down onto the pillows beside her and arced a brow. "We have?"

"We had a picnic together. In Storybrooke."

"Storybrooke?" He tilted his head to the side. "Storybrooke..." he repeated slowly, then he sucked in a breath.

"Swan?"

"You with me?"

He nodded. "Yes. It's clearer now." He looked around. "I see we're in Agrabah."

"Is that where this is?" Emma replied. "At least it's warm."

"Warm isn't quite the word," Killian said, fanning the front of his shirt. "And I was getting more than a bit overheated as it was." He reached out, tugging her down next to him by the waistband of her harem pants.

"I like you in this," he said.

She gave him a smirk. "I noticed."

"We didn't have much time for talking much last time we saw each other," he said, running his hand across her stomach.

"I was too busy recovering from hypothermia," Emma said. "And then your Bondage Buddy showed up and it all went to hell."

"Yes, well..." Killian rubbed his ear. "At least we got something across to Regina."

"I hope so."

"Well, we've nothing to do but sit back and wait, I suppose," Killian said. He moved his fingers in an idle pattern along the skin of her belly. "I can think of a few ways to pass the time..."

Emma smiled, stretching back on the pillows. "That feels nice," she said.

He smiled, looking down at the plane of her stomach, tracing a circle around her navel. "No marks," he said softly.

"Huh?"

"Your belly. You've no stretch marks this time around."

She leaned up on her elbows, glancing down at his hand. "I haven't earned them here," she reminded him. "And they'd totally spoil the harem girl look, anyway."

"Did you never have any from Henry's birth?"

"Nope. My body bounced right back from that one. That's the difference between having a kid in your teens and having a kid in your thirties."

He continued moving his fingers, looking thoughtful. "I rather liked them."

"Really?"

"They were a reminder. It's not often you get to witness a genuine miracle in your life."

"It's not often you get to witness an entire _life_ within your life." She held his eyes, and slid her hand over his.

"That one is definitely staying with me," Killian said.

"Me, too." Emma reached up, pulling his head down for her kiss, and he was more than happy to meet her halfway.

"Emma," he murmured, between soft, sucking kisses. "This outfit is driving me mad." He pushed his hand back into her waistband again, tugging her pants down until they slid off her legs, and her top was gone shortly after. Once she was laying naked across the cushions with that magnificent hair of hers spread all around her, he nearly ripped his damned shirt because he couldn't get it off fast enough. He started to come down over her, but she wrapped her legs around his waist and rolled him beneath her, sliding her body on his and pulling a groan from his lips.

"You said I'm supposed to pleasure you," she reminded with a smirk. "I'm just doing my job..."

He gave a chuckle, laying back. "I'm completely at your disposal."

It took a remarkably short amount of time for him to wriggle out of his pants and boots, and Emma ran her fingers through his chest hair with a satisfied purr. She moved her lower body against him, and he brought his hand up to stroke her backside, making an appreciative sound as she teased him, rubbing her hot, wet cleft along the length of him. He bumped his hips up, hoping to find passage, but raised up with a taunting laugh.

"Not yet," she said, kissing his neck and down his chest, trailing her tongue down to his navel, her fingers playing over him as she delayed the moment, just long enough to feel him squirm. His hand came down to tangle his fingers in her hair as her mouth closed over him, and then he gave himself up to it, losing himself in the heat and pressure of her lips and swirling tongue around him. He could only take so much of that before he pulled her up, ravaging her mouth over and over, holding her head captive as he all but devoured her. He started to roll her beneath him, but she wasn't budging.

"Oh no," she panted, "I'm running this show."

"Get on with it, then," he gritted out, pushing his hips up against her.

She slid down on him by millimeters, taking her time and refusing to let him rush her. She moved on him with a slow, measured rhythm, taking him deep and rocking back to hold him there until he brought his hand into play, finding the bundle of sensation just above where they were joined and rubbing his thumb in a delicate circle around it. He pressed and stroked until her hips escalated their movements and she tightened around him, biting her lip hard as she came apart, bringing him along with her. His head tipped back and the cords stood out on his neck as he erupted inside her, groaning loudly as she collapsed on top of him.

"That was...nice," she said, her voice muffled in his neck.

"Nice?" He lifted his head, then rolled her beneath him. "Nice?"

He leaned in, kissing her soundly. "That was a bit more than nice."

"Mmmmm," she answered non-commitally. "Gimme a break. I can't form words."

"It's a good thing we're on pillows, then," he said. "We can just laze the rest of the evening away."

"In a puddle of sweat," Emma said. "It's about a hundred and fifty degrees out here. We need to find some shade before we get dehydrated."

He rolled off her reluctantly. "Come on, Swan. He put a hand down and pulled her to her feet. "There's a sunken tub inside, you know."

"Really?"

"I can give you one of those backrubs you like while we're in there."

She gave him a slow smile and raised a brow. "You're on."

###

"Okay," David said. "Let's go over it again. Morpheus was in your dream, and Hook and Emma were warning you about him. Then they mentioned the hospital, and told you that Henry was in danger. Is that all of it? Anything else?"

Regina shook her head, then stopped, holding up a hand. "Wait. It was more than him being in danger. Morpheus was targeting him. Using him to draw me out."

"Draw you out?"

"That was exactly what they both said to me. He was trying to draw me out."

"So Morpheus took Henry in order to get Regina?" Snow asked.

"It appears so," Gold agreed. "Which means we need to figure out where he is, and not bring Regina along."

"Unless he expects us to do that, and leaving Regina here is what he wants us to do," Snow postulated.

"We can't sit here second-guessing all night," Regina said in exasperation. "We need to figure out where Henry is."

"Maybe they know - Hook and Emma - " David suggested. "Maybe that's why they flagged the hospital."

"Then let's go," Regina said. "I can't have this...psychopath dragging Henry into the dreamscape in hopes of getting me to follow."

"I'll go," David said. "You stay with Gold - he can help guard you if Morpheus is hoping to find you alone."

"I've a better idea," Gold said. "I'll go. You stay. Regina can take care of herself, but the only one even remotely qualified to face Morpheus is me. And that's my grandson he's got."

###

It was a long time later, and the water in the tub was making them pruny, when they crawled out of it and back onto the balcony, collapsing on the pillows in the cool night air. Emma threw an arm over her eyes.

"We haven't had a session like that in years," she said.

"Or days. Or minutes. God only knows in this place," Killian pointed out.

She pulled her arm off her eyes. "Do you think they'll find us, eventually?"

"Us?"

"The sphere. We've given them so many odd clues - who knows what they've gleaned from that. I mean, I'm not sure what I'm pulling out, here."

"We just have to keep our eyes open, love. The clues will come to you." He pulled her into him, spoon-style, and she relaxed into him. He started to drift off to sleep when her voice brought him back.

"What aren't you telling me?"

He was instantly alert. "Not sure what you mean, love."

"I'm not sure what I mean, either," she mumbled sleepily. "But something's not adding up. And every time I remember and start to put the clues together, I end up someplace new and we're starting over."

"I'm not sure what to tell you, love," he said, rolling onto his back. "I haven't told you all of it because it's a bit of a moot point."

He turned his head to look at her, but all he saw was the pillow on the bed next to him, and the wallpaper that clearly told him he was back in his room at Granny's.


	24. Turnabout

"This better be good," Emma said, walking through the parking lot. "I barely had time to blow dry my hair."

"I brought donuts," Graham gave her a winning smile, holding out the box.

Emma narrowed her eyes, taking the box from his hand. "I'm a real pushover when there are bearclaws involved," she said, taking one out of the box and biting into it.

"So...what's the scoop?" she asked, around a mouthful of donut.

Graham looked around. "Not sure. Something triggered the motion sensors inside the storage facility. There's nobody working after six, so we've got an intruder."

Emma raised her eyebrows, continuing to munch. "It could be a raccoon, for all we know."

"It tripped two different motion sensors."

"So?"

"Simultaneously."

Emma swallowed her donut, licking some residual glaze off her thumb, completely unconcerned. "And that means?"

Graham pulled his gun out, checking the safety. "It means...whatever it is, it's big enough to trip two sensors in two different parts of the room at the same time."

"Or we have two intruders."

He nodded. "Either way, I really should have backup. So you'll have to wait to properly style your hair." He raised his brows, and bit his lip endearingly. "Sorry."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Come on. Let's get this over with. I'd like to get back to my exciting social calendar."

"Stay close," he said, pushing ahead of her. He motioned with his head to partially open door, and Emma nodded, drawing her gun.

"You'd think we could see something through all these windows," she said in a low voice.

"They're all covered up," Graham replied. "There must be fifty shades pulled down there." He stepped through the doorway.

They proceeded cautiously down the corridor, listening intently. Somewhere, off in the distance, was a loud clanging sound, followed by a long scrape, and then the sound of a piece of metal clattering to the floor. Graham gave Emma a look, flattening himself against the wall and working his way along the corridor.

The sounds and thumping got louder, sounding almost as though they were footprints, fast approaching from around the bend in the hallway. Emma gave Graham a nod, bracing herself and Graham stepped out into from around the corner.

"Stop right there!" He shouted, pointing his gun. "Not one more step!"

"Are you bloody mad? We need to get out of here!"

Emma stepped out to join Graham, her curiosity getting the better of her. Killian's shoulders sagged with relief.

"Swan! Wonderful! Let's get out of here!"

"Hold on - " she said, putting out a hand. "Do I know you?"

"Yes! And I'll tell you all about it, but we have to go - now!"

Graham leaned down to Emma, speaking in a low voice. "Do you smell the rum?"

"Uh-huh," she replied. "Looks like we've got a live one." She smiled up at him.

Killian watched the exchange. "Who the hell is _this_?" he asked, gesturing at Graham with his hand.

"You're sure you don't know him?" Graham asked her.

"Nope."

"If I didn't know better, I'd say he was jealous." Graham noted.

"I'd say he was drunk," Emma replied. "I'll get him locked up. You bring the bearclaws." She walked forward, reaching for her cuffs. "Come on, you."

"Swan, listen to me. We have to get out of here. There's a monster."

She gave him a dubious look. "A monster."

"Yes, and it's chasing me. I came here looking for you and - "

"You were looking for me?" She stopped in her tracks. "Why?"

"Because I..." he glanced around, a bit wild-eyed. "I needed the sheriff," he finished lamely. "Someone...uh...vanished aboard my ship. During a picnic."

Emma looked at him blankly.

Graham stepped forward. "If you want the sheriff, that'd be me. Emma's just my deputy."

"What?" Killian hadn't missed the emphasis on that "my." "Swan, I mean it - there's a bloody monster roaming this place - he tore through a wall and damn near ate my head, so if we can get out of here..."

"By all means," Emma said, gesturing for the doorway. "After you."

Killian walked quickly down the corridor, glowering at the tone of the conversation behind him.

"I can take him down to the station and book him," Graham offered.

"Nah," Emma said. "It's on my way home, anyway. You finish your rounds and I'll save you a donut. Maybe."

"Deal."

Killian turned back around. "Do you two mind? I'd rather not be a monster's lunch." He gave Graham a dark look and then he pushed through the door to the parking lot. He stopped short, and Emma and Graham barreled right into him.

"Bloody hell - it's a wolf!"

Graham turned to see that Emma had fallen to the ground, so he reached down to help her up.

"I hate to see a woman with a bruised backside," he teased.

"I've got her," Killian said, shoving him aside.

Emma backed up, crab-style, then pushed herself up to her feet. "_I've_ got me," she said.

"You're not even concerned about a wolf running loose in Storybrooke?" Killian asked, incredulously.

"She's a friend," Graham replied. "You sure you don't need some help with this one?" he asked Emma. "I'm happy to come along with you."

"Oh, I'll just bet you are," Killian sneered.

"I've got this," Emma said, smiling up at him.

Graham held up his hands. "All yours, Emma. See you in a bit." He gave a whistle, and the wolf fell into step next to him, jumping into the police cruiser through the passenger window before Graham pulled away.

Emma turned to Killian. "You ready to go?"

"Listen, we really do need to get out of here," Killian said. "So let's go, and I'll tell you all about...things...on the way."

She raised her brows. "Things."

"Yes." He looked back over his shoulder at the warehouse. "Can we go?"

She walked him over to her car, gesturing for him to take the passenger seat. He slid in gratefully.

"Where to?" She asked, putting her hands on the wheel.

"You're taking me to the station," he reminded her.

"Am I? I thought maybe we could go to your place. Maybe help you work off some of that jealousy." She gave him a smirk.

He was utterly gobsmacked. "What? You remember!"

"Of course I do."

"When did you realize you were dreaming?" he demanded.

"When you mentioned me vanishing."

"And you left me dangling there while you flirted!"

"Would you have rather been chained down on a block of ice?" Emma asked innocently. "Maybe I can make it up to you by sending you a harem girl or something."

Killian crossed his arms. "Not good form, Swan. Not good form at all."

"What? I've been getting smacked in the face by your escapades every other dream. I guess my subconscious decided it was time for some retribution." She turned the key in the ignition. "So...where to?"

"My place," he growled. "And I'll remind you that I am particularly adept at exacting my vengeance."

Emma's smile was catlike as she put the car in gear.

###

Mr. Gold strolled into the hospital, carefully holding the talisman in front of him. The light within it glowed and pulsed, and he moved along the corridors, finding his way down the staircase to the special cells below. The corridor was deserted. He stood there a moment, watching the light as it glowed more brightly. Finally, he tucked the talisman in his pocket.

"Show yourself."

Nothing.

"I know you're here. Your brand of magic leaves a rather repugnant trail, but easy enough to follow."

Off to his left, Gold saw a flicker, then a gleam growing into a glow. It coalesced, shifting, taking form.

"Morpheus." Gold's face twisted in distaste. "You haven't changed a bit."

"Like you, I don't age," Morpheus replied. "Why are you here?"

"I came for the boy, of course. Did you really think you could just take him?"

"I'm not keeping him," Morpheus said.

"No, you're not." Gold's voice made Morpheus cringe, ever-so-slightly, his body shimmering and fading for a moment, then strengthening again.

"What do you care?" Morpheus said. "He's not my target."

"No," Gold agreed. "Regina is. And that's a very fortunate thing, because if you'd have hurt my grandson - "

"Grandson!"

"That's right. And as Regina isn't here, nor will she be, it's in your best interests to return him to me...promptly and unharmed."

Morpheus scowled. "They warned her."

"Indeed. What do you want with her anyway? She doesn't even know you."

Morpheus looked almost sad. "But I know her. I've followed her dreams for decades now. Her mother promised her to me."

"Her mother is dead, as you shall be shortly if I don't see my grandson." Gold threatened.

"I wouldn't have hurt the boy," Morpheus said. He shimmered again, fading out, then in. "I'm weary. Time to go."

And with that, he winked out. Gold spat an epithet under his breath, but a pounding on one of the cell doors nearby got his attention.

"Grandpa?"

"Henry?" He waved his hand, opening the door, and Henry rushed out, grabbing him around the middle for an awkward hug.

"Thanks," Henry said. "Was that Morpheus? He's really creepy." He rubbed his hands up and down his arms. "I was...sleepwalking or something. The next thing I know, he's pushing me in here."

Gold's eyes narrowed. "He won't be trying that again. Not now that he knows who you are to me."

"But what about my Mom?" Henry asked. "He'll come after her again."

"We'll just have to be ready," Gold said, tapping his foot as he thought. "What we need to do is get a message to our friends on the other side."

###

Killian stood on the sidewalk, letting the aroma surround him. His mouth was watering at the smell of it, whatever it was. How long had it been since he'd eaten?

The last thing he remembered was diving in the water, trying to put out his burning clothing. His ship had exploded around him after a long and particularly gruesome battle with a pirate whose face he couldn't quite remember. There was no Emma there, only blood and noise and death. He'd pulled himself out of the water and onto a shore somewhere, pushed through a wooded area, and found himself walking into the middle of Storybrooke.

He'd pulled the compass out immediately and it had pointed him to Granny's, but there was something going on. A party? A gathering of some sort? He could barely see over the crowd lined up to get in the door. And the sign had changed - instead of simply "Granny's", the sign was now an elaborate thing, with a picture of a plate and a cluster of grapes, proclaiming it to be "_Chez Granny._"

He tapped Leroy on the shoulder. "What's going on?" he asked.

Leroy gave him a scowl. "What do you think is going on? We're all starving and there isn't a seat in the place!"

Killian's brow wrinkled and he checked the compass again. "Look mate," he said to Leroy, "I really need to get in there, so if you'll - "

"Back off!" Leroy snarled. "You wait your turn like the rest of us."

The door opened, sending the crowd back a few feet to accommodate, and David appeared, leading Snow by the hand. He saw Killian, raising a hand and leaning back into the doorway to talk to someone on the other side. A moment later, Emma appeared, motioning him in.

Killian elbowed his way through angry dwarves, irritated townspeople and one barking dalmatian until he finally got in the door and pulled it shut behind him. He had to blink to make sure he hadn't walked into another dream.

"I know," Emma murmured, taking him by the hand and leading him to a table. "It takes some getting used to."

Granny's no longer looked like Granny's. There were plush carpets on the floor, rich mahogany chairs and tables, crystal chandeliers and fine linen tablecloths, and the aromas...Killian rubbed his stomach.

"Can we eat?" he asked. "I can't remember the last time I did."

"I'm starving, too," she said, smiling at him as he pulled her chair out for her. A moment later, Happy appeared to take their order.

"We'll both take the house special," Emma told him. "I'll have red wine and he'll take rum. Oh, and extra breadsticks."

"Coming right up!" Happy smiled widely before bowing and scurrying off to get their food.

"House special?"

"It's an onion, parsley and fontina lasagna," she replied. "And it's amazing. Better than sex."

He raised a brow. "Well, now I'm offended."

"You won't be once you've tasted it." She unfolded her napkin, setting it in her lap.

"I take it we're in Granny's dream?"

"Yep." She held out her glass so that Happy could pour her wine. "I've been here for three days, and every night I sit here waiting for you. Dad and Mom were starting to get worried, but I got endless breadsticks out of it, so I didn't mind." She reached for a breadstick, biting off the end.

"Pining away for me, are you?" He grabbed a breadstick of his own. "I'm not surprised, considering the noises I pulled out of you at our last encounter."

She gave him a smirk. "You were pretty vocal yourself, as I recall. Although, for me, that was a couple of dreams ago."

"Where else have you gone? Maybe there's a clue there?"

Emma took a drink of wine, thinking. "Well, I was an immunologist at a hospital experimenting on monkeys for a new lupus treatment. They all got some terrible mutated virus that spread to the rest of the world."

"There's the hospital again," Killian remarked.

"And then I was sleeping in my bed next to Pongo."

"The cricket's dog?"

She shrugged. "At least it wasn't Graham."

Killian gave her a dark look. "That's not funny." He twirled a breadstick in his fingers. "So...how long were you together...with Graham?"

"Together?" Emma thought about that a moment, taking another drink of wine. "Uh...about two minutes."

"What?"

She lowered her eyes. "He died. Regina crushed his heart. I kissed him and then...he died. I couldn't save him."

Killian reached out, taking her hand across the table. "I'm sorry, Swan. I know what it is to have someone die in your arms in exactly that way."

Her eyes met his, and she remembered. The way he looked at Milah - the longing, the emotions on his face...

And the way he'd looked at her, lying in a hospital bed, unable to speak.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sorry I left you. Back in that other life."

His thumb stroked the back of her hand. "Death is another part of life," he said quietly. "It happens to us all. Unfortunately, it leaves people behind, as well."

"For what it's worth," she said, her eyes holding his, "It was a helluva life."

He smiled, "We've had several of those."

"Reality is going to be good and boring, if we ever get back to it," she replied with a sigh.

He brought the back of her hand up to meet his lips. "I've told you before, love - I could never be bored with you."


	25. The Plan And The Pain

_**Hello, my darlings. Ooooh, I am still a big puddle after this week's episode. So many Killian feels! I'm so glad you liked seeing our old friend Graham again (he's fun to write - I miss him!) and I couldn't resist not one, but three separate hat tips to the actors' other projects. Of course, I shouted out Fifty Shades of Grey, but I also shouted out Jen Morrison's work on House, and for those of you who have Netflix, the warehouse setting was a hat tip to Colin's 2012 movie "Storage 24" (a rather forgettable flick if not for him, though the acting is pretty decent all around).**_

_**And now this is where I put in a shameless plug. I haven't hooked up my professional persona with many of my fans here, but I recently started posting episode reviews for OUAT, and I'd love some blog traffic. I started with Season 4 but I'll most likely go back and retro-review seasons 1-3 just for the fun of it. You can find my latest episode review dated 10/6/14 on SingleMomtism dot com. That's my regular blog. Look me up under my name on Facebook and Twitter, if you'd like.**_

_**And now we know that Morpheus thinks he's entitled to our dear Regina and has come for his due. **__**In the meantime, we're getting closer to figuring this all out...and Emma's starting to realize that things aren't adding up where Killian is concerned. Let's see what's in store for our heroes as they traipse merrily on through the dreamscape...**_

* * *

><p>"I don't think I could eat another bite," Emma said, pushing her plate away. "You finished?"<p>

"I'm pleasantly full, but not overly so," Killian said. "Which is ideal if you have plans for the remainder of the evening."

"You have plans?" Emma asked.

"Are you living at home?"

"Yes."

"Then once I get a room, _we_ have plans." He gave her a thoroughly unrepentant grin.

"Subtle," she chided. "I suppose we could rent a room. Maybe watch some Netflix."

He quirked a brow. "My thoughts exactly. Might as well make use of the facilities while we're here."

Emma gave him a smile and pushed her chair back - and of course, Killian beat her to the punch and was ready with an extended hand to help her out of her seat.

"I could get used to this, you know," she teased. "I'm really liking the chivalry."

"And I could get used to you getting used to it," he replied, his eyes twinkling as they met hers. "Is it such a change for me to treat you like you matter to me?"

She flushed. "No, I guess it's not. I just didn't notice as much before."

He brought her knuckles to his lips. "Let's go find that room."

"Emma."

She turned to see who was calling her and saw Belle approaching.

"What's up?"

"You need to listen to me," Belle said. "That man, the one who's stalking Regina - his name is Morpheus, and he's a powerful wizard."

Emma's eyes went wide. "Wait - how did you - ?"

"There isn't much time before he senses my interference, Miss Swan."

Emma's eyes shifted to Killian, then back to Belle.

"Mr...Gold?"

###

Gold continued speaking, from the other side.

"I have Belle's heart and she's sedated and dreaming. I was able to direct her to you but I can only talk this way for a short time. Morpheus has found a way into our world, and has tried to capture Regina, presumably to bring her into the dreamscape. To do so, he'll have to get her to the sphere. If you have any further clues, give them to Belle now - she'll remember them when she wakens."

He paused a moment, though he couldn't hear the reply, in order to give her a chance to speak, then continued.

"We need to attack Morpheus in both worlds simultaneously. Once we find the sphere, I can retrieve you. Morpheus will know we've located it and we will position Regina somewhere nearby to draw him out. When he takes corporeal form, we'll use the sphere to push his physical form into the dreamscape before destroying it - thereby ensuring he is entirely there. Once that's been done, the captain will need to use a special amulet to kill Morpheus - one that can be found in my shop. You'll need to find your way there within a dream and then it can be used against him once he's back in the dreamscape permanently."

"Is it working?" David asked. "Are you getting through?"

Gold nodded, then spoke to the heart in his hand once more. "The amulet is shaped like a diamond, with a bright red stone set in filigree. It's in a black velvet case, just under the register. I have to end this now - we can't risk tipping our hand."

Gold took a deep breath, inserting Belle's heart back into her chest as gently as possible. It was still a jolt that brought her mostly back to consciousness.

"I'm sorry, Belle," Gold said, stroking her arm. "I tried to be gentle."

"I still say we should have used me," David said.

"You would have gone straight to the burning room," Gold reminded him. "Belle has never been the victim of a sleeping curse and therefore went straight into the dreamscape."

"Thank you, Belle," David said. "Did Emma give you any more clues?"

"No, nothing new. British, Archie, hospitals. She wasn't even sure they _were_ clues." Bella rubbed her head, trying to remember.

"Was she all right?" David asked. "How did she look?"

Belle smiled softly. "Happy. She looked...happy."

###

Emma watched Belle turn abruptly away and walk for the door, vanishing into the crowd that was still waiting to get in. She turned to Killian, with a look of confusion plain upon her face.

"So we need to stop this guy, I gather?"

"It would appear so," Killian said. "We'd best make our way to the shop and find the amulet before this reality vanishes around us."

"Why does it have to be you?" Emma asked. "Why do I get pulled back to reality but you stay behind to deal with the bad guy?"

"Swan, your family wants you back," Killian pointed out.

"We do this together," she answered firmly. "Then we both get the hell out of here."

"Yes, well...we can discuss all the details later," Killian said, rubbing his ear. "For now, we need to find that amulet."

"It'll still work even though it's in a dream?"

"Perhaps that's exactly why it will work. A piece of magic within a dream to defeat him in his dream form."

Emma nodded. "Makes sense." She glanced toward the door. "Come on, we're better off going out the back way - it'll be faster." She moved toward the back entrance, and Killian followed her out the door, turning to shut it behind him.

When he turned back around, he was in the trees, and Emma was nowhere in sight. He gave a loud, put-upon sigh, tilting his head back and shouting out,

"This is bloody annoying, d'you know that? I'm getting ruddy tired of it."

No one answered, of course, because no one was around. At least it was daylight, and he could easily see the compass as he pulled it from his pocket. He got his bearing, and started walking, determined yet again to find Emma.

Within a few moments, he had broken through the trees, and found himself, not in forest as he'd assumed, but in a park. There was a large pond in front of him, with carefully landscaped shrubs and flower beds bordering it, along with a winding path and a few benches. People were milling about here and there, mothers pushing strollers, people walking dogs, joggers, and an older couple taking a sedate stroll. Across the pond, a young girl sat on one of the benches with a brown paper bag, feeding the ducks on the pond.

From the looks of people's attire, he was in Emma's world, but where? He checked the compass again, but it was pointing at the pond. Killian closed his eyes, feeling a chill go into his bones. Was Emma...dead in this reality? Her body in the pond?

He walked slowly around the perimeter, glancing down at the dial, and to his relief, the needle moved once he reached the other side. He was standing not far from the bench, and the compass was pointing straight at the girl. The girl with the sunny blonde hair. She looked about eight or nine, and she was all skinny legs and arms. One knee was scabbed over, as though she'd taken a fall. He walked toward her cautiously.

"Hello..." he said.

She looked up, frozen for a moment, then replied uneasily.

"Hi." She looked away quickly, as though she wanted out of the conversation.

"It's a lovely day for feeding ducks," he remarked.

She said nothing, but continued throwing breadcrumbs from her bag. Kilian decided to try again.

"What's your name?"

She glanced up at him, squinting a bit in the strong sunlight. "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," she said.

Killian nodded. "That's very wise." He stood there in silence, trying to figure out how to work through this one, and finally decided on another tack.

"Perhaps I could guess your name," he offered. "Is it...Mildred?"

She made a face, shaking her head 'no.'

"Beverly?"

She wrinkled her nose and raised her brows. That look alone told him all he needed to know.

"How about Emma?" he offered. Her reaction was instantaneous. She jumped to her feet, dropping the bag on the ground. The ducks rushed forward and Emma leaped back as they swarmed her. Killian walked over, retrieving the bag from the ground and holding it out to her.

"Here," he said. "Don't let some of them play glutton while the others go wanting. Best to spread the food around a bit."

She took the bag from him warily. "Am I in trouble?" she asked, sitting back down again.

"Should you be?"

"You - you're from the school, aren't you? Or are you a truant officer?"

Killian moved to the other end of the bench and sat down. "I'm a friend."

She lifted her chin, looking at him distrustingly. "That's what they all say."

He held up his hand. "No, I really am."

"You're here to take me back to my foster parents, but they're not home," she said. "And school will be over in an hour. You might as well leave me here."

"Do you plan to sleep in a park at night? That's not a good idea, you know."

"No. I just didn't want to go to school today. I wanted to be here." She looked over at him. "I promise, I'm going home soon."

"I suppose I can allow it this once," Killian said. "If you promise to be home before nightfall."

"I will, I promise." She reached into the bag, pulling out more breadcrumbs and scattering them on the ground.

Killian settled back, folding his arms across his chest. "You like feeding ducks?"

Emma glanced over at him, then back at the pond. "I used to do this every day after school with Amanda."

"Amanda?"

"She used to be at the home with me. She's gone now." His eyes softened when he heard the loneliness in her voice, and he noticed that her chin was quivering.

"She moved away?"

"Her birth mother took her back, this time for good." Emma flung some more breadcrumbs at the ducks, almost angrily. "She was pretty much the only friend I had here."

"I'm sorry," Killian said quietly. He really didn't know what else to say. Emma grew up hard, and from his own experience, sugar-coating anything wouldn't make it any better for her.

"It's okay," Emma said. "No biggee." Her words were in complete opposition to her body language, but Killian didn't call her out on it. Neither did he try to remind her of who she really was, now. He had a feeling it wouldn't be entirely pleasant for Emma to be thrown knowingly back into this. He looked over at her again, and she was staring at his hook curiously.

"Was it an accident?" she asked. "How you lost your hand?"

Killian held it out, turning the hook to and fro and looking at it. "No. I was somewhere I probably shouldn't have been after doing something I probably shouldn't have done when it happened."

"A fight?"

"You could call it that. Not a fair one, by anyone's standard, though."

Emma gave him an empathetic look. "Sorry."

"Oh, it's all right. Doesn't hurt a bit. And I think it looks quite dashing, actually." Killian gave the hook a light polish on his shirt before inspecting it again. "It's saved me from various brigands a few times, as well."

"You talk funny," she said. "I mean, not just the accent. You sound like you're in a fairy tale or something."

"I'm British," he lied smoothly. "Do you read many fairy tales?"

She gave him a look. "I'm eight."

"Oh," he said, nodding sagely. "I see. Too grown up for fairy tales."

"They're stupid anyway," she said, throwing out more crumbs. "Amanda used to like them. She'd try to get me to wear princess dresses and stuff."

"I think you'd make a fine princess."

Emma shook her head. "That's just stupid. Nobody lives like that. Castles and poofy dresses and magic and true love. It's all so stupid."

"Castles are real enough," Killian offered. "And a poofy dress can look quite lovely, if it's the right poofy dress. As for magic, well...it may be hard to find, but that doesn't mean that it doesn't exist. Just like true love."

"It doesn't exist," Emma said emphatically. "True Love. If it did, people would always stay together. If it did, nobody would ever give anybody up."

"It does exist, Emma," he said. "Just because you haven't found it yet, or even seen it yet, doesn't mean you should give up on it. Your friend was right. It's out there, and someday - I promise you - you will be loved. Fiercely and For always. And you'll be loved for exactly who you are."

She emptied out the last of the crumbs from the bag, folding it away into her pocket. "Keep dreaming," she said, with quiet resignation. "Happy endings don't come true for everyone, you know."

She stood up. "Thanks for not turning me in. I'll go home now."

Something in her face pulled at him and he reached a hand out, wishing he could just...hug her or something.

"Emma."

She looked at him, but didn't say anything.

"Maybe you'll see her again someday, your friend. Maybe the two of you can...call each other or plan to meet for lunch or something."

Emma shook her head, her eyes shifting away. "No," she said quietly. "She's dead. They sent her back to her birth mother, and two days ago, she beat Amanda to death. The funeral was today and my foster parents wouldn't let me go. They made me go to school instead."

He felt sick to his stomach. "Emma - "

"I gotta go." She took off at a jog across the park and he couldn't bear it. He had to go after her. He watched her cross a nearby street, and sped up, hoping to catch her before she made it home. He was so intent on getting to her, he didn't see the bus until just before it hit him.

But he did have time to notice Morpheus, at the wheel.


	26. Intrigue And Revenge

_**Hello readers (she says, grinning a devilish grin. Hell, I might even be quirking an eyebrow): Sorry to rip your heart out on that last one, but you know me - I'm big on the feels. I promise, this chapter will have some fun to counteract that. Before it gets intense again, of course. What can I say? Killian brings out the best and worst in me. Thank you, all of you, for reading despite the rollercoasters I make you ride.**_

_**And thanks to all of you who jumped on my blog to read the OUAT reviews - I'm having fun writing them! Expect another one on Monday! **_

_**And finally, one last little bit of news: I've already figured out the plot for the next fic - and again, this is a Captain Swan adventure, featuring supporting performances from the good people of Storybrooke and the EF. I do plan to write a Gemini story at some point, but I can't decide if I should chapter it out in one long piece at Captain's Choice (like I did with Gareth and Anna) or turn it into its own story. Thoughts?**_

_**But enough about my writerbrain. Let's get back to the story, which takes place now in a rather familiar-looking tavern...**_

* * *

><p>Killian pressed his hand hard against the wooden surface, trying to come to grips with his untimely demise. He drew in a breath, and then another one, grateful he could do so and was no longer feeling the snap of his ribs beneath the crushing weight of bus tires. He sat a moment, trying to clear his swimming head, and realized that he was, in fact, sitting. There was noise all around him, and the smell of wine and food teased his nostrils.<p>

"Captain?"

He opened his eyes slowly, only to see a pair of firm breasts, encased in a white blouse and sitting above a corset. They didn't look familiar. He moved his eyes up to meet her face, and was still coming up blank.

"It's your roll," she said, putting a pair of dice in his hand. He gave them a toss onto the table, and she laughed, a bit too loudly and in a way that was more than a little grating.

"That's the way to do it, Cap'n!" shouted one of his men, who was sitting on the other side of the table.

"Oh, you've quite undone me with that roll!" the unfamiliar woman said, batting her eyes coquettishly. "How ever shall I work off what I owe?"

He forced a smile, but before he could form the words to brush her off, a hand reached out, taking the dice from the table.

"So...what're you boys drinking?"

Killian's head snapped up in surprise, and his mouth fell open at the sight of her perfectly presented breasts overflowing her corset.

"Do you want to join the game?' he asked, smiling up at her.

"I was hoping we could have a drink," she said, giving him a look that set his blood surging through his veins, hot and heavy. He turned to his companion.

"Apologies, lass," he said, giving her a smile but his eyes weren't anywhere but on Emma, "But I have a previous engagement."

The girl flounced off in a huff, and his crewman, after receiving an affirming nod from his captain, ran after her, hoping to do some consoling. Emma slid into the girl's seat.

"So." She reached for the bottle of rum, pouring them each a drink.

"So." He mimicked, picking up his drink and clinking it to hers. "Did it take you long to find me?"

She reached down, touching his hook with light, caressing fingers. "You're easy enough to spot," she said, with a mysterious smile. "The infamous Captain Hook is known all over the realm."

He tossed back his drink, setting the cup down. "Yes, I suppose I am. What about you? Did you see our friend?"

She looked at him oddly. "Our...friend?"

"How long have you been here?"

"I've been working here at The Stag and the Hound for over a year," she said. "And what _f__riend_ are you talking about?"

He looked at her, nonplussed, the slow realization dawning on him. This wasn't someone else's dream - it was Emma's. He broke into a slow, sexy grin.

"Let's have another drink," he suggested. "And perhaps later we could...extend our plans."

"What did you have in mind?" she asked, tilting her head as she poured.

He reached out, taking his drink. "I was thinking...a picnic."

"A picnic? Is that...normal for a pirate?"

"It is if I have a lovely companion," he said. "Just don't vanish on me, love."

Emma's hand stopped halfway to her drink, and she blinked hard a few times. "I'm dreaming."

"It would appear so, love." He poured himself another drink. "I really wasn't expecting to meet my nameless bar wench again."

She sat back against the wall, reaching for her drink. "What can I say? I was intrigued."

"Oh, so he intrigued you. I was knocking myself about, traipsing through jungles and fighting off witches for you, but he intrigued you. A drunken pirate." He tossed his drink back, clearly annoyed.

"A drunken, playful pirate," she reminded him. "And up until then, I'd only kissed you once. I had no idea what I was in for."

"It's nice to know I acquitted myself well," he said, leaning in until his lips were hovering above hers. "What say we skip getting drunk and go straight to the ship this time?"

"I think that sounds very...interesting. What did you have in mind?"

His eyes darkened, and he rubbed his nose against hers. "It's your dream, love. I'm only along for the ride - if you'll forgive the expression." He kissed her, his lips lingering on hers and the tavern faded into the background as she felt herself melting into his welcome familiarity, his singular pull that made her feel things in ways she hadn't felt before. He moved away at last, reaching out to stroke the side of her face with his thumb.

"So beautiful..." he murmured.

She smiled at him. "So are you."

He gave a quiet laugh.

"What?" she asked.

"I know you hate the corset, love," he said, his eyes moving downward with blatant appreciation, "But it really does show off your...features...to their distinct advantage." He stood, helping her to her feet. "Still, I'm happy to liberate you from it at your earliest convenience."

"I'm sure you are," she smirked. "Let's hit the dock."

They made their way through the crowded tavern and out the door, standing on the dock with the night breeze whipping around them.

"Come along, love," he said. "Let's get you out of the cold and warm you properly."

He'd just put a hand to the small of her back to guide her when a shout broke out behind them, and the sound of feet pounding down the dock had them both whirling to turn around.

"That's them," said Morpheus, standing at the far end of the dock. "They're the fugitives. The queen wants them executed on sight."

"What the - " Emma barely had time to express her confusion before they were on them. Killian managed to get his cutlass drawn and shoved Emma behind him, fighting as hard as he could, but in the end, there were just too many of them. He took two direct sword thrusts to the belly and one to the chest before going down, and the last thing he saw was the blood spraying down as Morpheus slit Emma's throat.

###

Emma fell to her knees, not even registering the softness of the ground beneath her. Her hands went instinctively to her throat, and upon the realization that it was unharmed, and she was breathing, she fell forward, pressing her cheek into the sand.

Sand.

She opened her eyes. Where the hell was she? She lifted her head, then pushed herself up to her knees and looked around. She was somewhere tropical. Palm trees were everywhere and coconuts littered the shoreline. The water was crystal-clear and she could see nothing but ocean for miles. It was blazing hot, and something funny teased her nostrils, making her wrinkle her nose.

She pushed herself up to her feet as a blast of heated air blew her hair into her face. She turned into the wind, pulling the strands out of her eyes, and then her jaw dropped.

The volcano stood in the distance - but not nearly far enough in the distance - belching a steady stream of lava, rolling down the side of it, and heading right for her. She looked around wildly, then began running up the shoreline. If she could get far enough away, perhaps the flow would miss her. She could feel the heat of it hitting her in waves on the breeze, and it's winding path through the jungle was easily traced as trees fell or burst into flames.

She rounded an outcropping of rocks and skidded to a halt at the sight of Killian, running toward her.

"Swan!"

"Killian!"

"Run! Emma, run!" he raced up to her, panting. "We've got to run - the lava has taken out everything that direction. Run!" he reached out to grab her arm, trying to urge her back the way she came. She dug her heels in.

"It's no good that way, either," she said. "The lava's working its way toward the beach."

Killian turned in a circle, then looked up at the outcropping of rock. He ran for it, pulling himself up and finding a toehold so he could climb. He reached the top, and stood, shading his eyes with his hand.

"Anything?" Emma asked,

Killian looked out helplessly into the jungle. The lava was coming down in an almost perfect semicircle, cutting them off on both sides. Animals were fleeing the jungle for the beach, birds flying out of the trees as they fell in the lava's path. There was no way out but the sea.

He climbed back down.

"Well?" Emma asked, looking around.

He shook his head, wiping sweat off his brow with his forearm. "We're cut off in both directions. Our best hope is to get up on the rocks, and hope the flow isn't deep enough to engulf them."

"And then what?" Emma asked. "We'll be stuck - no food, no water..."

"It's a lost cause," Morpheus said, stepping out from behind the rocks. "The heat from the lava will cook you alive on that rock."

"What are you doing here?" Emma moved toward him.

"It's my dream," he said blandly. "I've become quite adept at this. I can recognize my own dreams and move freely within the dreams of others. It's a skill that I'm sure you'll be longing for in another few minutes."

"You brought us here? Why?" Killian demanded.

Morpheus smiled. "Why, to kill you, of course. Only this time, it won't be quick, or merciful. It's going to be slow - hours and hours of torturous death upon a rock as the lava rises around you. You'll be praying for death long before it finds you."

"What?" Emma's mind just wasn't comprehending this. "Why kill us?"

"We won't stay dead, anyway," Killian pointed out. "You of all people should know that."

"Oh, I do indeed," Morpheus agreed. "And that is my point entirely. You're in _my_ world, and I won't have you interfering with my plans."

Emma's eyes narrowed. "You mean your plans for Regina?"

"She will be mine," he answered emphatically. "And I'll put up with no more of your attempts to warn her. You have a simple choice: leave me be or suffer my wrath."

"You can't kill us if we kill you first," Killian snarled, leaping for him. He ended up face-down in the sand as Morpheus winked out of sight, reappearing on top of the rocks.

"You're fighting a battle you cannot win," Morpheus said, good-naturedly. "I can control my own dreams - a particular skill I've honed to perfection in my time here. And of course, I can influence the dreams of others. I can turn even the most mundane dream into a living hell for the both of you. Would you like to see Emma at the mercy of a gang of rapists and murderers? And Emma - I can kill off all the people you love. I can torture them, flay them alive, leave them begging you to end them - and put the dagger in your hand for you to do it. Can you imagine that?"

"You're a monster," she whispered.

"No, I'm determined," he answered. "Once Regina is safe within my realm, I don't care what you do. But for now, stay out of my way."

Morpheus clapped his hands over his head, and out of the clouds, a hot-air balloon descended from the sky, a rope dangling from it's basket. He reached out, winding his arm around the rope.

"I can make your time here endless bliss - or endless agony. I'm just giving you a little taste of your alternatives. Choose carefully." He gave them a sickening grin as he lifted off the rock. "Eternity can be a very, very long time."

His words carried back to them on the wind as he ascended, and soon, he was floating toward the horizon.

"Bastard!" Killian spat.

"He's going to kill us. Again and again and again." Emma's eyes were filled with horror. "He won't ever stop."

Killian's head swung up the beach. "We need to get to the rocks," he shouted, pulling her with him.

"Wait," she said, wetting her lips with her tongue. "Wouldn't it just be quicker, to let it hit us here?"

Killian paused, his hook already digging into the rock, ready to climb. "I don't know if I can do that," he answered. "I don't know if I can watch _you_ do that."

"What choice do we have?" Emma's eyes filled with tears. "This is it. We die here, or we die there," she pointed up at the rocks. "And there will take a lot longer."

He took his hook out of the rock, shoulders slumping. The anger burned inside him hotter than the lava that was coming at them. The sheer helplessness of this moment was enough to drive him mad. He could face his own death, but he would never, ever get used to facing Emma's. He turned back, pulling her into his arms.

"Emma," he breathed into her hair. "I've got you, love."

"Killian." She burrowed her face into him, pushing aside his amulet so that she could rest her face against his chest.

"Emma!" He pushed her back. "My amulet - it kept the flames from consuming me in the red room - Rumpelstiltskin said it might have other magical defenses." He reached up, pulling it from around his neck.

"Stay back," he said, then he jogged off down the beach, getting as close to the lava as he could get. He drew back his arm, throwing his amulet as hard as he could into the lava flow.

The result was stunning - the lava cooled to rock on the instant, spreading quickly along the flow, stopping it and freezing it so completely, not even steam escaped.

"It's working!" Emma shouted. "It's working!"

She ran toward him and he picked her up, swinging her off her feet. They stood holding each other, watching as the lava cooled and hardened in a line all the way back to the volcano, which belched a final burst of smoke, and then lied dormant. Killian set his forehead against hers, closing his eyes as the relief flooded through him.

And it was probably a good thing they didn't see the tidal wave before it drowned them.


	27. Ripped

The horse pawed the ground, snorting once, twice, then it let out a whinny, as if sensing that it was almost time. He felt the weight of the armor upon him, weighing down on his shoulders, the helmet restricting his vision, and making it hard to catch his breath - breath that he was very grateful to have, considering he'd just bloody well drowned.

That sodding bastard.

He sucked in a deep breath, and the horse shifted beneath him, causing him to nearly loose his grip on the lance.

Wait - the lance?

He had but a moment to register that he was holding it before his squire slapped the horse's flank sending him catapulting forward, hooves thundering, toward the other knight, who sported a wicked-looking lance of his own. He leaned instinctively away at the first pass, moving his lance to avoid injuring the other knight, and the crowd let loose with jeers and sounds of disapproval.

He pulled his horse up short at the end of the run, wheeling him about - wondering if he could just drop the lance and ride off without making too much of a fuss. He instinctively patted his legs, looking for a pocket and within it, the compass, but encountered more armor instead. He could see the knight at the other end repositioning and readying himself for another run. He needed to make a decision and he needed to do it fast.

That's when he saw her - not that she was trying to hide. She sat up in the viewing stands, on a throne next to her parents, in a long gown of sapphire blue with a jewel-encrusted circlet on her head to match. She looked regal and every inch a princess.

There was nothing for it - he was going to have to stay, and that meant playing along. The problem was, in all his pirate life he'd never had an occasion to joust. He'd impersonated just about every profession there was, including a knight, but he'd never had to enter competition before. How hard could it be? The pointy end went in the other guy.

His horse pawed the ground again, lowering its head, and then they were off, hurtling toward each other, and Killian did his best to keep the lance at chest level. It seemed the best, broadest target to aim for. At the last moment, the knight twisted his body to avoid Killian's lance, arcing his lance around to compensate. The tip tore into Killian's upper arm, ripping off his shoulder piece and taking a good chunk of flesh along with it. His lance fell to the dirt, but he managed to keep his seat - just barely.

He pulled his horse up, turning him sharply to ready for another run. His squire rushed up, handing him his lance, and before he could adjust his grip on it, the horse was in motion. He raised the tip of his lance, expecting the knight's maneuver this time. A split-second before he reached his opponent, he dug his spur into his horse's left flank, causing him to sidestep toward the other knight, effectively causing the man's horse to course-correct in mid-stride. He took advantage of their distraction and rammed the lance home, hitting the knight squarely in the breastplate and unhorsing him in the center of the field.

A cheer went up from the stands and a veritable ocean of lady's ribbons and scarves floated down at him. He removed his helmet, and saw Emma's face register her interest at the sight of him. With a smile, he urged his horse forward to the stands, extending the tip of his lance toward her, so that she might tie her favor to the end. Emma got to her feet, holding his eyes.

And then she very deliberately turned away.

###

After a brief stop at the surgeon's tent, he had a bandage on his shoulder and was now sharing a congratulatory drink with the other knights, including his opponent, Sir Archie. Whoever knew that the good doctor had not only the makings of a knight, but a crush on the blue fairy? She was a virginal maiden in this scenario, and quite enamored of the doctor, as well.

Emma was nowhere to be seen, having retired shortly after the feast started, and without a backward glance in his direction and before he could get to her. Obviously, he had some work to do where she was concerned.

He managed to find his way to his quarters, and get out of his bloodstained gear and into something more presentable. Now he just needed to find Emma. He found the compass in a jeweled box in his room, and it pointed his way toward her room. He hesitated outside her door, weighing his options. If she was dreaming and he knocked...well, it was highly inappropriate for him to be visiting her bedchamber. Then again - he hadn't taken the time to ask around about her, either. What if she was already married? He bit his lip, not even wanting to revisit that scenario.

Finally, he decided that a direct approach was probably best and just lifted the latch and opened the door.

She was sitting at the end of her bed, still wearing her gown, but the circlet was gone. Her face turned toward the door as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

"Took you long enough," she said. "I've been here nearly a week."

"So this isn't your dream, then?"

She pushed herself to her feet. "Near as I can tell, it's Archie's. He's the best and bravest knight we've got and my parents consult him on every decision."

"Have you given him any more clues?"

"Like what?" she threw up a hand. "I don't know anything else. I've got nothing."

He moved closer to her. "It's all got to come together sooner or later, love. You'll figure it out."

"But _you_ won't, will you?"

His brow creased, but she looked at him steadily. He took in a breath. "What are you getting at, Swan?"

"Don't play dumb with me. I've had a solid week to think about all of this, and nothing but time to replay the clues over and over in my mind."

Killian raised his brows. "Time alone for you has been my biggest foe here. Perhaps we should go over your clues again - maybe there's something that you missed."

She shook her head. "Don't change the subject. You lied to me."

His jaw tightened. "I haven't lied to you, Emma."

"A lie of omission is still a lie. When were you planning on telling me you got here through a sleeping curse? There's only one way you were in a burning red room."

Killian rubbed his ear. "I had hoped you had forgotten that."

"Well, I didn't." She crossed her arms, staring him down. "I may not remember every detail from every dream, but I can put enough together to figure that one out. So why didn't you tell me?"

"It's a bit of a moot point, don't you think? I'm here. And I'm getting you out."

"I didn't ask you to save me!" she shouted, throwing up her hands. "It's not your job!"

"Yes, it is."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, Emma." He reached out, clasping her shoulder. "Yes, it is. I couldn't leave you in here, running around blindly, not even knowing you were trapped in a dream."

"What about my father? He's been under a sleeping curse before - you could have let him come!"

"And what if he was trapped for months? Years? He has a baby that needs him, likewise your mother," he pointed out. "And Henry was out of the question entirely."

"So you had to go and play hero! Of all the asinine, ridiculous..." she sputtered to a stop, unable to go on. "All this time, I thought we were in this together."

"We are."

"But not because we both had to be! Do you understand how that makes me feel - after all you've been through? You're not responsible for me!"

"And you're not responsible for me," he said quietly. "I'm a grown man, love, and I make my own choices. And I chose this. I chose you." He reached out to touch her hair and she swatted his hand away.

"Don't."

"Emma..." he searched for the right words. The look on her face was his undoing, so vulnerable and guilt-ridden. It reminded him of the little girl she'd once been, the one who was afraid to believe in fairy tales.

"You've got to stop feeling like you don't deserve a happy ending," he said, and the brightness in his eyes made her stomach clench to the point of pain. "You told me once that not everyone gets one. I know that as well as you do. But I also know how important it is to try for one anyway. You can make it happen, and if I can assist, then I'll call that my own piece of happily ever after."

Emma's eyes widened, a look of pure horror on her face as she slowly backed away. "That was...you. In the park - feeding the ducks the day of Amanda's funeral."

"Aye. I didn't have it in me to pull you into the present on that one."

"No, you'd just rather wander through my painful past, dredging up things that are intensely personal and should have stayed that way."

"That's not fair -"

"No, it isn't, is it? None of this is fair!" She turned away from him. "I'm stuck in here, reliving all this...shit - and you're more than happy to witness it all. It was bad enough you found out about Portland, and now this. We've had lifetimes for you to worm your way in and spy on every little facet and secret of my life."

"I'm not spying on you," he said emphatically. "And the same could be said for you, as well. You've seen parts of my life, too. And whatever shamed you or shaped you in the past made you the woman you are today."

He stepped forward, putting his hand gently on her shoulder. "Own it, Emma. Don't run from it. And don't _ever_ believe that I think less of you for any of it."

She stood still, very still, and he waited.

"Get out." Her voice was soft, emotionless.

"Emma, please." His hand tightened on her shoulder and he tried to turn her to face him. She stepped away instead, still keeping her back to him.

"Get out," she repeated. "Leave me alone. I'll figure a way out of this. You don't need to be looking for me anymore. Go find a nice dream somewhere else."

"I'm not leaving you."

"I don't want you here."

He clenched his hand, fighting the urge to really tear into her. God's truth, he wanted to shake some sense into her, and then kiss her, hard. When she was in his arms, she wasn't battling her past or fretting over her future. She was caught up and living the moment with him, and that's what made it all so damned intense. He'd never felt anything like he felt when he touched her, and it went far, far beyond the physical.

She wasn't going to welcome that tonight, and he wasn't going to coerce her. He stepped back.

"You can be angry as long as you like," he said tightly. "But it changes nothing. We need to work together to save Regina and to get you out of here."

She didn't say anything, and she still wouldn't look at him.

"I'll go, Emma, but this isn't finished. Gather your thoughts tonight, and we'll discuss this further tomorrow." He walked over to the door, opening it, but he turned back, pausing in the doorway.

"I'm not giving up on you, love. D'you hear me? I've seen it all now, the good and the bad, and it changes nothing. I'll still be here tomorrow."

He closed the door behind him, and Emma sank to her knees, burying her face in her hands.


	28. Unspoken

_**Oh, Readers...I know. How could I do that to them? To you? But come on...knowing Emma - you had to have seen it coming. We've still got a little bit of journey left, and so does Emma, before we claim our (hopefully) happily ever after. I've never ended a fic on a sad note, but you never know...I'm all about pushing my personal envelope. I'll just have to see how it shakes out.**_

_**In the meantime, thank you all for reading me, and for popping over to SingleMomtism to read my episode reviews. I'm having so much fun writing them! And for you Seeder Saga fans out there - I'm just waiting on the cover art, and then part three will be out on Smashwords. Expect an announcement shortly!**_

_**And now...let's see how our dynamic duo work through the angst and drama and get back to gettin' busy...**_

* * *

><p>Emma ran as hard as she could, but she could feel the ground shaking beneath her feet. The ogres had arrived just as the feast was winding down, and with everyone trapped in the hall, they were easy pickings. Body parts littered the ground around her and she turned her head, wide-eyed, praying she wouldn't see him laying on the ground anywhere. She pushed through the stitch in her side, not even risking a glance back, because she could smell them now - once you've smelled ogre, you never forget it. She ran through the courtyard, only to see two more ogres at the portcullis, ready to grab anyone trying to flee the castle.<p>

She turned sharply, running for the wall, hoping to find a hidden gate or maybe even a crack large enough to shove herself into, when she heard a shout.

"There! Down there!"

She looked up toward the wall, and there, at the parapet, was Morpheus. He was shouting out directions to the ogres, while clutching a glittering crystal - whatever it was, it was controlling them. Her heart was thundering in her chest, but she kept on running, her vision getting blurry from the need for oxygen.

Suddenly, everything went white.

Or, more accurately, bright. She was running down the middle of main street in Storybrooke, and it was bright daylight outside. She slowed to a stop, bending over to put her hands on her knees as she gasped and fought for air. A quick glance behind showed that no ogres had followed her, so she stood up, wiping the back of her hand across her perspiring forehead.

She was safe. And she was home. So whose dream was she in?

She kept on walking, rounding the corner to the apartment, and headed up the stairs. She opened the door, and David turned as she did.

"It's about time," he said. "Between you and your mother, we're going to be late!"

"I just need to grab an extra onesie for the diaper bag," Snow said apologetically, cramming the clothing into the bag. "Emma, could you get Neal out of the bassinette?"

"Sure." Emma closed the door behind her and walked over to pick up the baby. He started to fuss a bit, so she readjusted.

"He's fussy," David said. "I can take him."

"No," Emma said over her shoulder. "We're fine. I know all the tricks."

"You do?" Snow looked at her questioningly.

"Yeah, I'm practically a pro." She propped him on her shoulder, giving his back a soothing, circular rub, followed by a gently jiggling hand to his posterior. The baby quieted down, sucking contentedly on his fist. "See? Nothing to it."

David raised his eyebrows and shared a look with Snow that Emma happened to catch. She realized immediately that she was acting out of character - for them, anyway. "I've been watching to two of you," she said. "You make it look easy."

David smiled. "Some days are easier than others."

"But not the nights," Snow interjected. "He's got his days and nights mixed up right now. It's driving me crazy."

"Well, if we don't get going soon, Grandma's going to be crazy, too," David said, grabbing the diaper bag. "She hates it when dinner gets cold."

"Grandma?" Emma looked confused.

"It's Sunday," David reminded. "We always have dinner at your grandmother's house on Sunday."

Emma closed her open mouth, and forced a nod. "Sunday. Right. Let's...do that, then."

Snow reached for Neal, putting him into the car seat, and they headed down the stairs. Once the stepped out onto the street, David stopped in his tracks.

"You invited him along?" he asked, tilting his head to the right.

There, leaning against Emma's Volkswagon was Killian. He pushed off as soon as he saw her.

"Swan," he said, walking up.

"Killian," she said, finding it hard to meet his eyes.

"You two might as well follow behind," Snow said. "We'll never fit all of us in the truck, not with a car seat."

"Good idea," Emma nodded. "See you there." She gave Killian a warning look and he kept his mouth shut, sliding into the passenger seat on the Bug. Emma put the car in gear and pulled out behind David.

"Where are we going?" Killian asked.

"Grandma's."

"Granny's?"

"No...Grandma's. He would have said Granny's if it was Granny," Emma explained.

"So whose mother is it?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Emma replied. "They're both dead."

"That complicates matters a bit."

"It actually makes it easier. Whoever's mother it is we can probably assume that they're the dreamer." Emma turned down the street behind David. They drove in silence for a few minutes, and Killian could feel it weighing between them.

"Look, Swan...I know you told me to stay away - "

"It's all right," she said quietly.

"You have to understand - "

"It's all right, Killian." She said it louder this time, turning to look at him. "I know why you did it. I just don't know how I feel about that yet, other than guilty. You've done enough for me. But I also realize that me telling you to stay away is an exercise in futility. So let's figure this mess out and we'll go from there."

Killian looked like he wanted to say something, but then thought better of it. "We need to find that amulet while we're here in Storybrooke. God only knows when we'll be back again."

Emma's eyes widened. "That's right! The amulet!" She cursed under her breath. "Only, my parents think you're coming to Sunday dinner. If you duck out now, it may raise too many questions and jog them out of the dream."

"Perhaps I could leave immediately after, then."

"No..." Emma shook her head. "You need me with you. If Gold is there, someone's got to distract him."

They pulled up in front of a flower-covered cottage with a lush yard, complete with a white picket fence. A woman stepped out onto the porch, waving a hand and then making her way to the gate to hold it open. Emma got out of the car just as David leaned over to give the woman a kiss.

"Mother," he said. "You look well."

"I look like a woman with an overdone roast beef, that's what I look like!"

"Sorry, Ruth," Snow said apologetically. "You know how it is with a baby - we go nowhere fast anymore."

Ruth hugged Snow with a smile. "No matter. I'm happy to see my grandson." Her eyes moved over to Emma. "And my granddaughter! Emma!"

Emma walked up, giving her grandmother an awkward hug. "Hello," she said. "I hope you don't mind if I brought company."

"Of course," she smiled. "I told you, your young man is welcome to dinner anytime." She gave Killian a smile before she turned and hurried into the house after David and Snow.

Emma gave Killian a look and he responded with a shrug and a raised brow. "I've won her over already," he said.

"Come on," she said, prodding him toward the door. "Let's go eat dinner with Grandma."

###

"Will you pick up the pace," Emma said in a forceful whisper. "I don't need anybody calling the sheriff because they've seen us lingering in an alleyway."

"_You're_ the sheriff," Killian pointed out. "And your grandmother's cooking has all but put me to sleep. She's an exemplary cook."

"I'll be sure and tell her that next time I see her," Emma deadpanned. "We need to get this amulet then get back to David and let him know we've got it."

"Perhaps you'd better walk around the front and go in and ask him for it," Killian pointed out.

"_Ask_ him?"

"I assure you, Rumpelstiltskin will know if he's being stolen from, even if he's not in the shop. And shortly thereafter, he'll know it was us. I'm not sure how long we'll be here, but the odds don't favor us being able to hide it for long." Killian pointed out. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps we can make a deal."

"A deal? With Gold? Are you crazy?"

"Not his dream, love. It doesn't matter what we promise. Hopefully, we won't be here long."

Emma gave him a look. "And if we are? You and I both know this stuff can go on for a lifetime. Literally."

Killian raised a brow and shrugged. "Then I suppose we'd better make sure it's something we can live with."

Emma blew out a stream of air, lifting the front of her hair off her forehead. "Just once, I'd like this to be easy," she grumbled, walking around the corner and opening the shop door. Gold stood at the counter, polishing a brass spoon.

"Miss Swan. To what do I owe the honor?"

Emma motioned for Killian to come in and he reluctantly joined her, stepping into the shop.

"Oh. I see you brought backup. Is there a problem?" He eyed Killian with very thinly concealed disdain.

"Sort of," Emma said. "I need something that you've got and I need you to not ask me why I need it."

Gold put the spoon down. "Well. Now you've piqued my curiosity," he said. "What is it that you need?"

"An amulet." Her eyes scanned the case just below the register, and found it. "There," she pointed. "The red one in the black velvet case."

Gold reached into the case, pulling the amulet out and setting it on the counter. "I do hope you're not just trying to accessorize a cocktail dress, Miss Swan. This amulet is not to be trifled with."

"No. It's the one I need. What does it do, exactly?"

"This, Miss Swan, is a Turiya Stone. When the stone is crushed, and the mist within it is released, it renders the victim unable to dream. Their sleep will be nothingness."

"It sucks dreams away?" Emma asked.

"Indeed. When you close your eyes, it will be nothing but a void. No dreams can exist within it." He put his hand over the stone. "And of course, like any precious, magical object," he looked over at Killian. "It comes at a price."

Emma turned to look back at Killian. "You need to wait outside," she said.

He raised his brows. "Beg pardon?"

"You heard me. Out. Now."

"Swan..." his eyes carried a warning.

"Will you just can it and do what I ask? I need a private word, here." She turned back to Gold, rolling her eyes.

He smiled at Killian - a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "It appears your services are not needed at this time. Perhaps you'd better do as the lady asks. Or do you need some...assistance?"

Killian's jaw tightened, and he wrenched the door open, then slammed it shut behind him.

"Oh my," Gold said. "I do hope we didn't hurt his feelings." He smiled at Emma, and began polishing his spoon again. "Now then, Miss Swan. What did you have in mind."

Emma leaned forward on the glass, lowering her voice and casting furtive glances at the door. "Here's the thing...I keep having these...dreams."

"So I gathered."

"About him." She tilted her head toward the door. "I've tried to keep him at arm's length because I'm really not sure I trust him yet, and I keep having these incredibly _graphic_ dreams about him and me and we're touching and his lips are - "

Gold held up a hand. "I get the picture, Miss Swan." He let out a breath, shaking his head as if to clear it from the images she just put there. "And you're right not to trust a pirate, in any case, let alone this particular pirate."

"So you see my problem? It's like... he's infiltrating my subconscious, or something." She let out a heavy sigh. "I mean, just because I'm physically attracted to him doesn't mean I'm ready to share something like what I had with Neal. It's too soon."

The mention of his son's name had its desired effect. Gold's hand went still, and he swallowed hard. He pushed the amulet across the counter toward her.

"What's the price?" Emma asked warily.

"On the house. Our interests are...aligned." His eyes shifted to the door. "I'd be happy to remove him from the physical world, as well, if you need assistance."

"No," Emma shook her head. "I can handle him here."

Mr. Gold smiled. "Well, I can honestly say I've never seen him take orders from anyone before. other than me. Well done, Miss Swan."

Emma scooped up the amulet, tucking it into her pocket. "Thanks." She strode to the door and walked through, pulling it shut behind her. Killian stepped out from where he'd been leaning against the wall and walked over to her as she started down the street.

"Well...?" he said.

"Well what?"

He gave her an exasperated look. "Did you get the amulet?"

"Yep."

He looked startled, then a look of foreboding crossed his face. "What did you have to give him in return?"

"He took my heart," she said, not looking at him.

Killian grabbed her arm, spinning her around. "He did _what?_"

She broke into a grin. "I'm kidding."

He put a hand to his chest, in mock heart failure. "Don't do that to me. Bloody hell!"

"Oh, relax. He didn't charge me a thing."

"You didn't make a deal?"

"No. I played him."

"You played him?" Killian looked baffled.

"I made him think I was trying to keep you from infiltrating my dreams."

"Did you now?" He gave her a lopsided grin. "Well played, Swan. I must say, I'm impressed."

"I know a few tricks to get people to cooperate."

He pulled her toward him, backing her into the shadow of a nearby building. "You may use your skills on me any time you'd like, love."

She smirked. "You don't take a lot of work to win over."

He chuckled. "No, I suppose not." His lips came down to brush hers tentatively, as if asking her permission. She didn't stop him, but she didn't move to deepen the kiss, either. He broke contact, leaving his lips hovering above hers.

"Promise me you'll never trade your heart away. Even if we are in a dream," he murmured.

"Nobody can take my heart," she reminded. "Even Cora couldn't do it."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said, kissing her again on the end of her nose. He stepped back, allowing her to move back out to the sidewalk, where he fell into step beside her. Emma glanced over at him, taking in his profile and the way the fading sunlight hit his hair. She couldn't seem to stop looking at him.

And she knew that magic wasn't the only threat to her heart.

And that thought was simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating.

"What?" he asked, noticing her regard. "Do I have a bit of dinner in my beard or something?"

"No," she smiled.

"What, then?"

She let out a sigh, stuffing her hands in her back pockets. "Not ready to tell you yet."

"Tell me what?"

She shook her head. "Not ready to tell you that, either."

"Very well, then," he said thoughtfully. "I can be patient. It's bloody well entrenched now."

He quirked a brow and she gave him a deadpan look. Killian reached out, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"Just don't make me wait a lifetime, love," he said. "Or several."


	29. Add It Up

"What we need to do is lure him out," David said. "But without knowing where the sphere is, that's not going to be easy."

"We need to get him to tip his hand," Regina said. "He's obviously trying to get me to the sphere." She tapped her fingers on the edge of her desk. "Short of walking every street in town, I'm not sure how we do that."

"We're stuck waiting for him to make his next move," Snow said, patting Neal's back as he lay against her shoulder. "He's got to be getting nervous, especially now that he knows Hook and Emma are getting messages to us."

David looked alarmed. "Can he do any actual harm to them?"

"He can kill them," Regina said. "They'll come back in another dream, but he can make it awfully unpleasant until they do."

"He can trap them and torture them," Snow said, her eyes wide with understanding. "Over and over."

"That's right." Regina folded her arms. "And take it from me, he's got no qualms about exploding - or burning - anyone. He's a real piece of work."

"That he is," Rumpel agreed, stepping into the office with Belle right behind him. "And now he's armed."

Regina raised a brow. "Armed?"

"Apparently, Morpheus decided to pay the shop a visit at some point." Gold explained. "He's very hard to detect - even in his corporeal form, he's not entirely solid - but I know when something's gone missing."

"He took something," David clarified. "What?"

Gold's lips thinned. "A cuff. The one that Pan designed. I assume he intends to use it on Regina. It'll render her magic useless against him."

"I wondered how he thought he could just throw a bag over her head and drag her off," David said.

"He was probably expecting me to be half-dead," Regina sneered. "My house still smells like smoke."

"I think it's safe to assume that Morpheus will stop at nothing in this world - or the dreamscape - to get what he wants," Gold pointed out. "And what he wants is Regina."

"So how do we make him think he's getting what he wants without giving it to him?" Snow asked.

"Can you talk to him through her, like you did with Belle?" David asked Gold. "Maybe lure him into thinking he's softening her up?"

Regina raised both brows at that one. "I'm not putting my heart in his hands," she said.

"But it might be a good idea to make him think you're...interested in what he has to offer," Gold suggested. "Magic has a powerful pull that you and I know all too well."

Snow shook her head. "Would he believe that?"

Regina crossed her arms, pacing and thinking. "When he spoke to my mother, he talked about everything he could offer me in the dreamscape - which would be virtually unlimited. That alone can be a powerful draw."

"Especially if there's something you want," Gold reminded her. "Desperately."

Regina gave him a look. "So, you're saying...?"

"You both have something you want," Gold said. "Get him to make a deal."

###

"Do you think your father got the message?" Killian asked, opening the door so that Emma could enter the sheriff's office.

"The way I was flashing that amulet around?" She pulled it out of her pocket. "I might as well have wrapped it around a club and bashed him over the head with it." She put it down on the desk. "Now help me look for that damn pacifier."

Killian glanced around the room. "It would help if I knew what a pacifier was."

"It a ...um...it's got a...thing on it that the baby sucks on and there's a ring..." she walked around the room. "I think David said it was blue."

"And the baby prefers this to a breast?"

She gave him a look. "Most women don't want a baby on their breast every waking hour. Some of them use a pacifier. David had Neal here earlier and he thinks it might've dropped out of his car seat."

Killian raised his eyebrows. "I speak from experience when I say there is no substitute for a breast."

"Help me look, please," she said, rolling her eyes.

"And after we bring the little prince his poor substitute for a breast, what are your plans for the rest of the evening?"

Emma looked up from where she'd been crouching under a desk. "Are you planning something?"

He walked over to help her to her feet. "And if I am?"

She took his hand, standing slowly. "I should probably stay and shove the amulet under David's nose a few more times."

Killian rubbed his ear. "Didn't we just establish that you'd more than made your point?"

"I just...I want to be sure," she stammered. "And it's late - "

"It's eight o'clock."

"And what if they need help with the baby? I'm really good with him."

"I've no doubt of that, but they can certainly manage without you, love." He raised a brow. "It's not that late. Why are you pushing me off?"

Emma looked away, giving a tiny shake of her head, and Killian reached out, turning her chin so that she was looking at him again.

"Well?" he asked.

She took in a breath. "I need some time. That's all."

His thumb stroked along her jawline. "After all we've lived through...together - you're still not sure about us?" He didn't even try to hide the pain in his eyes.

"I'm just - " she paused a minute, trying to figure out how to say it. "This is..._here_. It's all a dream, it's not reality."

"So you've given yourself permission to indulge, as it were." His jaw tightened and he dropped his hand.

"No...I mean...yeah. I guess." She pushed an exasperated hand through her hair, trying to find a better way of phrasing what she was feeling. "It's easier knowing that it's all pretend."

He looked liked she'd struck him. "_Pretend?_"

Emma stepped forward, reaching a hand up behind his neck. "I didn't mean _I_ was pretending. Or you were." She bit her lip, realizing she was making a mess of this. "I mean the circumstances we've been shoved into. It's only natural that we're getting a lot closer having to face what we've faced."

"And...?"

"And we've got the amulet now and I'm wondering how this is all going to translate once I hit reality again. I wish I could tell you I know the answer to that." Emma's eyes filled with tears, despite her efforts to blink them back. "Because you deserve an answer."

He lowered his gaze, taking a moment of his own before he answered her. He pushed out a lopsided smile and reached up, taking her hand and twining his fingers with hers.

"Well, love," he said. "We've lived lifetimes together now, and you know I can't just walk away. You've got more guts than any woman I've ever met. I'll just have faith that when the time comes, you can be brave enough to face the only person standing in your way. You."

He pulled her in and she went unresisting into his arms tilting her face up for his kiss, and he was only too happy to oblige her, kissing her lingeringly, and putting every ounce of what he was feeling into it. He pulled back, pushing a lock of her hair behind her ear.

"In the meantime," he said, "I'm going to keep doing this." He kissed her again. "And anything else you're willing to indulge. It certainly helps pass the time."

"You could always join my mother's book club," Emma suggested.

"Why not? Maybe I'll finally win your parents over."

"You've already got Grandma's stamp of approval," she smiled. "Her sheep liked you, too."

Killian chuckled. "I must say, that was bizarre. I was not expecting her to have a sheep as a house pet."

"Nothing should surprise you in this place. I killed a polar bear in a jungle, remember?"

"At least you didn't keep it as a pet. I do miss our old dog, though."

Emma smiled, remembering. "Sam. He was a great dog."

"He was." Killian smiled, then reluctantly stepped back. "Let's find that damn pacifier before your brother turns into an animal, as well."

Emma turned, then froze.

"That's it."

Killian looked over her shoulder. "Where?"

She whirled around. "No...Killian - _that's it._ Animals. I keep seeing animals. Bears and dogs and cats and sheep. And birds and tropical fish."

"Monkeys," he added. "And rats. We've encountered rats a few times."

Killian thought a moment. "I've had a few incarnations without animals or birds, but anytime you're around, Swan...they do seem to be prevalent."

"And even when there weren't animals," Emma continued, "There was a reference to them. The tavern - it was The Stag and the Hound."

"And that mural on the wall at the place where I gave you the massage. It was -"

"Lovebirds." Emma's eyes went wide. "Killian! I'm at the animal shelter!"

"You're sure?" Killian's eyes were as wide as Emma's.

"Yes! My parents rehabilitated a lovebird who'd gone missing from her flock - and the animals...they're everywhere. I'm at the animal shelter!"

Killian reached over, scooping up the amulet from the desk. "Let's go - we have to tell your father!"

They ran for the door, and kept running, stopping on the stairs of the apartment house to get their breath before they knocked. There was no answer, but Emma could hear baby Neal crying on the other side. Emma reached down, turning the knob and opening the door.

And there was Morpheus. He stood over Neal, who was in his car seat on top of the counter. In his hand was a dripping, bloody knife. Behind him, each lifeless and in a pool of their own blood, were her parents.

"Emma," he said, smiling. "So glad you could make it. I didn't want you to think I'd forgotten you."

Emma forced herself to breathe, her eyes refusing to look at the horror behind him and gluing themselves to the blade of that knife. "Leave him alone," she whispered.

"Oh, I went for him first, not anticipating the vehemence of your parent's reactions," he said with a shrug. "I was hoping to kill them slowly while you were here to watch, but they made it all but impossible." His tone was accusatory, as though they'd done him a great disservice.

"You're mad," Killian said, inching slowly behind Emma.

"Who told you that? Rumpelstiltskin?" Morpheus laughed mirthlessly. "He has only a small fraction of the power I now have at my disposal, and he calls me a fool. He has no idea the limitless magic I can tap into."

Emma kept her eyes firmly on the knife and her brother, keeping her face expressionless as Killian pressed the amulet into her hand.

"You don't need to hurt the baby to prove your point," she said. "Do whatever you want to me, but leave him out of this."

"Oh, I couldn't possibly do that," he crooned, running his hand over the baby's head. "Not now that I've seen what he means to you. I want to reinforce my earlier message."

"Consider it reinforced. Now, what can we do to help you?" Emma asked.

Morpheus stared at her, taken aback.

"You're going to help me?" he asked. "Truly?"

"What do I care if you end up with Regina?" Emma said. carefully wrapping her fist around the amulet. "We just want to be able to live here in some kind of peace."

Morpheus shifted his eyes to Killian, who had now stepped to Emma's side. "I see you're no longer trying to leave. Did you finally realize your captain is trapped forever? How selfless of you to stay on his behalf."

Emma gave a nonchalant shrug. "Selfless, nothing. We can be anything here."

"We can be rich," Killian played along. "We can be young forever. Who wouldn't want that?"

Morpheus tilted his head. "No, I think there's more to it than that," he said. "Which is why it's such a shame you have this." He waved a careless hand, and the amulet flew out of Emma's grasp, hanging in mid-air just in front of Morpheus. She made an abortive attempt to grab it, but found herself thrown into the wall behind her, with her back pinned to it.

"Emma!" Killian half-turned to go to her, but found his feet stuck tight to the floor. He whirled back around to face Morpheus. "Let her go!"

"Oh, but this is splendid," Morpheus said, with a smile. He gazed at the amulet, hanging in mid-air. "A Turiya stone. Brilliant! Using an amulet that creates a dreamless sleep to trap me in a void forever - I must say, it's incredibly clever. It certainly solves my dilemma nicely." He turned to address Emma. "Did you think I'd believe that you'd just give up your life with your son? Your family?" He made a tsk-ing sound. "I'm not that foolish. But neither do you want to give up your good Captain. I can help you with that."

He released his hold on the amulet, and it clattered to the ground. Morpheus flicked his wrist, and Killian went flying backward, sticking to the wall right next to Emma.

"If I send you both into the void," he said. "I won't have to worry about your interference anymore. Enjoy your eternal nothingness - together."

He brought his heel down on the stone releasing a huge cloud of sparkling fog, and with another flick of his wrist, he sent it straight at Killian and Emma.


	30. Back and Forth

Emma didn't think - she just reacted. Her arms were free and her hand came up and a mighty gust of wind came out of nowhere and blew the cloud of magic out the open door, where it dissipated into nothingness. Morpheus looked clearly startled, and he raised his arm to throw the dagger he still held in his hand, when suddenly, a shot rang out, and a bullet whizzed by Morpheus's head, splintering into the wall behind him.

He jumped back, glancing around wildly, and then he disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Emma and Killian dropped to the ground, panting.

Emma scrambled to her feet, looking around the room. "Where did the shot come from?"

Killian pushed up to his feet as well, extending his hand. There was a gun in it. "From me," he said.

"Where'd you find the gun?"

"That's the interesting part," he said. "I didn't. I knew he was going to kill you and I wished I had a gun to shoot him with. Suddenly, there it was in my hand."

"And I wanted my arms to be free so I could throw some magic at him," Emma said, her eyes widening. "We can control it. Like he does."

"It would appear so, though we did do it under duress."

"That's the way magic is," she said. "Strong emotion makes it easier." She glanced over at her parents on the floor, suddenly remembering they were there when she heard Neal crying. She ran to Snow first, but it was clear she was dead - her sightless eyes more than Emma could take.

"Swan." Killian's voice cut into the fog of agony around her. "Your father is still alive."

"David?" She crawled over to where he lay, and while she could see his chest moving with his breath, it was shallow - too shallow. "He's barely alive," she murmured.

"Which explains how we're still here." Killian felt the pulse in David's neck. "He won't be alive much longer, I'm afraid."

"We have to get him to the hospital."

Killian reached out, putting his arm around her shoulders. "He won't survive that long. I'm sorry, love."

Emma buried her head in his shoulder. "It's just a dream. It's only a dream." She said it like a litany, over and over.

Killian raised his voice slightly. "David, mate - if you can hear us, Emma is at the animal shelter but we don't have the amulet anymore. Remember that - Emma is at -"

The remaining words fell from his lips, echoing off the cave walls where he sat, entombed in darkness, feeling the water rise all around him.

###

"Snow, no! Snow!" David sat straight up in bed, gasping.

"David, I'm here," she said, reaching up to rub his back. "You were just having a nightmare."

"Emma - " he turned on the bedside light, looking down at his wife. "Emma was there. And Hook."

Snow sat up. "Did they give you a message?"

David passed a hand over his face, willing himself to remember. "First we were at my mother's house and then...Morpheus was there. He killed - he killed us." David panted as Snow continued rubbing his back. "And then he went after Emma and Hook but they fought back."

"Anything else?" Snow prodded. "Anything at all?"

"They had the amulet and then lost it. Hook told me they lost it and..." He bit his lip, willing himself to remember more. "There's more. I know there is. I just can't remember."

Snow looked at him sympathetically. "Maybe it'll come back to you. Like...deja vu or something."

David shook his head. "We don't have time for that. This guy is dangerous and he's making their lives a living hell in there."

"You're doing the best you can. It'll come back to you." Snow said. "Just relax and - "

"Maybe that's it," David said, interrupting her. "I need to relax." He jumped out of bed, reaching for the jeans he'd thrown over a chair the previous night.

"Where are you going?" Snow asked.

"I'm going to find someone who can help me relax."

###

Emma jumped down off the rock, turning to get a look at her surroundings. She was on a beach, with high cliff walls above her. She turned again, and that's when she saw the lion. It was about a hundred yards away, and it was pacing, countering her moves, and obviously doing its best to make sure she didn't get away.

The lion licked its lips and started to crouch down, she could see its back legs bending as it gathered itself to pounce. Emma glanced around wildly, panicked. Running was out of the question, so she backed toward the water, wondering if she could stay under long enough to convince the lion that she was gone.

And then it pounced. She only had a split-second, but that was all she needed. She raised her hand and the lion landed at her feet in the sand, fast asleep, curling a paw over its face as it snored.

How?

How did she just stop a lion?

"I underestimated you." The voice came from behind her. She turned to face the man.

"Who are you?"

"You know the answer to that," he said, staring at her.

And Emma realized that she did.

"Morpheus."

"You're becoming more aware within your own dreams," he said. "And I see you've learned to control things to a certain degree. But don't think that makes you in any way a match for me. I _own_ this realm."

"And you think you own Regina, too? I've got news for you - she's not going to like you any better in here than she does out there."

"We have eternity in here, and I can influence everything around her. She'll grow to love me," he said confidently. "The longer she's in here, the more her ties with her old reality will fade."

Emma gave him a smirk. "You think she'll forget Robin that easily? Or Henry?"

"She can see the child here. I can create a reality for the three of us, provided he doesn't take too much of her attention," he qualified.

"Where is Killian?" Emma growled.

"Drowning. Very slowly, and in a purely torturous fashion." He gave her a goading smile. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a lot to do. And you have an entire pack of wolves to deal with now."

He vanished, and Emma turned slowly, watching the pack advance,

###

"You realize this is an inexact science," Archie qualified. "People under hypnosis are extremely susceptible to suggestion, so we have to be sure we're not giving you any leading statements."

"Understood," David said. "I just need to remember the details."

Archie turned to look at Snow. "We need to limit all conversation to the dream and the dream alone," he said. "Now David, I want you to lay back, close your eyes, and begin counting backwards from one hundred, very slowly. Try to keep your breathing even and relax all your muscles while you do so."

"Got it," David said. "One hundred...ninety-nine...ninety-eight..."

###

Emma gave a startled jump when Killian's voice came from behind her.

"You've been busy, I see."

She'd been gathering her thoughts, trying to decide which direction was best to set off in, and with her back to the ocean, she really hadn't been expecting anyone to sneak up on her.

She whirled around, giving him a dirty look. "Don't scare me like that," she said.

He slogged out of the water. "Well, who were you expecting?"

"Morpheus was here," she said. "He's already sent a lion and a pack of wolves after me. For all I know, you were a shark or something."

The corner of Killian's mouth lifted. "A talking shark?"

Emma shrugged. "In this place? It wouldn't surprise me."

Killian staggered up the sand, sitting down and pulling off his boots and jacket. "No, I suppose it wouldn't," he said. He tilted his head toward the rest of the beach, which was littered with sleeping animals. "What happened to them?"

"Me," she said. "And what happened to you? Morpheus told me he was drowning you."

Killian started unbuttoning his shirt. "He certainly tried. I was in a darkened underwater cave that was filling up with water - couldn't see a thing. Then I thought it might be nice to have a light and there it was. I concentrated a bit more, and found a way out and to the surface, just a little further down the beach from you."

He pulled off the shirt.

"Whoa," Emma said. "I really don't think this is the time for that, do you?"

"What?" He gave her a disgruntled look. "I'm only getting myself out of my wet clothes before I chafe, love. Anything else will have to wait."

"Oh." She felt stupid now. "Sorry."

He stood up, brushing the sand off and then straightening up to give her a mischievous grin. "Don't be. I'm certainly thinking about it, but sand is bloody awful to make love on. It gets in every orifice of your body."

"You're leaving the pants on? Talk about chafing..." she smirked.

"I considered taking them off, but with our luck, I'd be plunked down bare-arsed in the middle of a tiger's den, or a fireplace."

Emma raised her brows. "Good thinking. Now how do we get out of here?"

"Whose dream are we in?"

"Mine."

"Yours?" Killian looked at her, confused. "But you knew who I was. You know that you're dreaming."

"Morpheus reminded me, but I was about to remember on my own, anyway. It's getting faster - the remembering. Have you noticed?"

Killian nodded. "Yes. For me, as well."

Emma started pacing. "So, what moves us out of our own dreams?"

"Dying. But I don't recommend it," Killian said shrewdly.

"And when someone else's dream pulls us over."

"Yes, that's certainly happened. And then one of us can pull us out to our own dream again."

"It's like we're being tossed around on the tide or something," Emma said. "We need to find a way to get more control of this. To move on - when we want to."

Killian reached out, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her in. "And stay when we don't."

"Mmmm-hmmm..." Emma said consideringly, though she was distracted as hell by that chest of his. She couldn't help herself, running her hands over the slabs of muscle, her fingers pulling and sliding through the hair.

Killian looked over her head at the rock cliffs behind her. "I see a cave," he said, pointing. "There. Just a short climb away."

Emma leaned in, kissing his throat. "There's probably a family of grizzly bears in there."

His hand slid down, cupping her behind and pulling her in tighter to feel just what she was doing to him. "I'm sure they're nothing you can't take care of."

Emma stepped back. "Race you," she said, with a wicked smile.

###

Snow ushered in the last of the dwarves, then shut the door to the mayor's office behind them. She gave David a nod, and he moved over to stand in front of Regina's desk.

"All right, everyone - can everyone take a seat, please?" he requested. "I know you weren't expecting to be called to a meeting first thing in the morning, but we need your help." He looked around at the occupants in the room. "It's time we shared what's been going on, and all of you are among our most trusted friends."

"_He's_ a trusted friend?" Leroy asked, looking over at Mr. Gold.

"If it weren't for him, we'd have never been able to work out a plan," David explained.

"A plan for what?" Granny asked.

"To get Emma back," Archie chimed in. "We know where the sphere is."

"So let's go get it," Granny said. "What are we waiting for?"

"There's been a setback," Snow replied. "They need to get a magical amulet that can only be found in Storybrooke. That will take care of Morpheus in the dream world once we get him out of our world and permanently into theirs."

"And that's where all of you come in," David added. "We need to dream them back to Storybrooke."

"So...what?" Leroy asked. "You're going to put a spell on us or something?"

Regina shook her head. "I can't make you dream of something for long - the magic in the dreamscape takes over and it can make things go awry. But I can plant a suggestion...sort of lean you toward the idea of dreaming about Emma and Hook here in Storybrooke."

"And if any of you have dreamed about either of them recently, we'd like to hear about it," Snow added. "Just in case there are other messages they're trying to get to us."

Mr. Smee reddened a bit. "Uh...I dreamed of them. But neither of them talked to me. Emma was a mermaid, though."

David's eyes widened. "A mermaid?"

"She was quite lovely," Smee said, apologetically. "But again, we didn't talk."

"Anybody else?" David asked. One of the dwarves shifted in his chair uncomfortably, clearing his throat.

"Walter?" David asked. "You have something?"

Walter let out a yawn, rubbing his eyes. "Um...I saw them in a bar. But they didn't talk to me, either."

David looked over his shoulder at Regina. "Can we _suggest_ that they all talk to Hook and Emma?"

She nodded. "We can try." She stepped forward, then raised a hand, passing it from side-to-side across the room, the air shimmering around her fingers.

"That should do it," she said.

"We're going to need to sleep in shifts," David told them. "It gives them the best chance of interacting with us if we have someone almost constantly dreaming about them."

"Great," said Leroy. "We'll just bounce them around in our dreams."

###

Emma took off running, and Killian was close behind. A short scramble up the rocks later and they found the cave mercifully uninhabited. A few minutes later, the rest of their clothing was gone and Killian was pulling her down on top of him.

"I think you'll find that I make an excellent pillow," he said, pulling her down for his kiss, his tongue plundering her mouth.

She moaned low in her throat and rubbed herself against him, making an appreciative sound when his hand closed over her breast. Emma reached down to fit him to her, ready to slide down on him, when she suddenly realized she was not only clothed, but kneeling on a couch, facing a wall.

"Are you kidding me?" she griped. "Now?"


	31. Born To Be Wild

_**Hello my darlings... Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up but I've got two books that I'm finishing up and they're taking precedence right now. Rest assured, this fic is still working its way around in my brain, and I'm getting a framework together for the next one, as well. I may have to take a bit of a break before starting the next one though - the plot is more than a little complicated and it's going to take some serious planning.**_

_**I want to take a moment to thank all of you that have hopped over to the blog to read the episode recaps - I appreciate the traffic! If you feel like going one better and shouting out the blog reviews on whatever forums you inhabit, that would be really helpful for me!**_

_**In the meantime, we've still got this fic to get through. We're closer to a resolution, but we're not done yet! Now let's get back to Emma, who just got pulled from on top of Killian's naked body...**_

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><p>Emma gasped at the sudden sensation of losing the sensations she'd just been feeling.<p>

"Are you kidding me?" she griped. "_Now?_"

"Oh, I think it definitely should be now," said Regina in a purring voice from somewhere behind her.

"Yes! Now! Do it now!" A man's voice said urgently.

Emma turned her head slowly, and her jaw dropped at the sight before her. Regina was standing at the foot of a bed, wearing a skin-tight black spandex catsuit and heels, and she was holding a riding crop. Sidney Glass lay on the bed before her, hands tied to the headboard, and wearing only a pair of red silk boxer shorts.

"Please, my queen," he begged Regina. "I know I've disappointed you. I promise, I'll be more obedient."

"Oh yes, you certainly will. Miss Swan and I will see to that...personally." Regina raised a brow, smiling at Emma.

Emma carefully got to her feet and rocked there for a moment as she realized she was wearing thigh-high boots with stiletto heels, a black leather mini-skirt and a black bustier.

"What is going on here?" she asked carefully.

"I'll tell you what's going on here," Regina said. "We have a naughty, naughty man who needs to be punished. Don't you think?"

"I deserve it!" Sidney said, panting. "Oh, I deserve it!"

"How about we put that on hold for a little while," Emma suggested uncomfortably. "I think we should - "

"Kiss?" Sidney suggested. "Touch each other?"

Emma's eyes went wide. "Huh?"

Regina trailed her fingers across Emma's shoulder and down her arm. "Ooooh. That's an excellent idea. Miss Swan and I can entertain ourselves, and you, you pathetic slug - you can just sit there and watch, helplessly." She gave a little cackle and Sidney nodded his head.

"Yes," he agreed fervently. "I've been a bad boy. I don't deserve your attention. Pretend I'm not even here. And if you catch me looking...you should punish me. Severely." He wet his lips, still panting.

Emma rolled her eyes, and stepped away from Regina a little. "Okay," she said. "Here's the thing. I'd love to be a part of this little...scenario...but I've got something I have to do first. So...you two carry on and...uh...I'll be right back." Emma headed for the door.

Regina looked at her quizzically. "Where are you going? We need to take care of Sidney."

"Oh, we will," Emma reassured her, thinking fast. "But anyone can see he doesn't want it badly enough yet. Why don't you tease him awhile and build up the anticipation. I need to go and get an amulet."

"An amulet?" Regina was still confused.

"Yes. It's going to help us. A lot." She looked over at Sidney. "It's a very important amulet and I'm getting it now," she reiterated.

Regina gave her a dismissive wave. "Oh, very well. You get the amulet and bring it back here. Maybe we can take turns wearing it...and nothing else."

"Yes!" Sidney burst out. "Yes, let's do that!"

Regina brought the crop down across the tops of Sidney's thighs. "Did I tell you that you could speak?"

Sidney let out a howl. "N-no."

"No _what?_" Regina hit him again.

"No, _your majesty!_"

Emma pulled the door open. "I'll be right back. Just keep on...doing whatever."

Regina gave her an evil smile, reaching down to scratch the head of a cat who suddenly appeared and was rubbing up against her leg.

"You go ahead," she said. "I'll be here...stroking my pussy."

Sidney made a strangled sound and Regina hit him again. Emma pulled the door closed as Sidney babbled and begged and shrieked with every smack of the crop against his flesh. Emma walked through Regina's house, stepping out onto the front porch and stood there a moment.

"This place," she said, in exasperation, "Is going to drive me crazy."

"And that outfit will be the death of me," Killian added, strolling up the front walk. "Do I want to know who you're wearing that for?"

"Apparently, Regina and I are part of Sidney Glass's wildest fantasies."

"Is that a fact?" Killian stopped in front of her. "Well, we can always go back inside for awhile..."

She gave him a look. "Stow it. If Regina's in this one, that means our buddy is hanging around somewhere. And we have to get to that amulet."

"Point taken," he said, reaching out and running a finger along the waistband of her miniskirt. "It's just a bloody shame, is all."

They started walking, and Killian fell into step next to her.

"How long have you been here?" Emma asked.

"Just got here, but it's been eight weeks since we were so rudely interrupted."

"Eight weeks? I just came from there."

He gave her a cheeky grin. "No, you didn't."

Emma sighed. "No, I didn't. And I'm still pretty pissed about it. We were so close."

"At least you went from there right into a naughty scenario," he said. "I was dropped into the hold of slaver ship and chained to a corpse."

Emma stopped. "Oh my God. That's...awful."

"Aye. I was taken ashore and by then I'd gotten an infection from the leg shackles. They ended up amputating my leg - without anesthesia."

Emma reached out, gripping his hand. "Killian...oh my God." She wrapped her arms around him. "I'm sorry."

"They ended up killing me, but it took a while," he said. He stepped back, grinning down at her clothing. "Happily, your attire has all but erased the worst of it from my mind. Now let's get that amulet and find a quiet place for the two of us, shall we?"

"Oh, I wouldn't make any plans." Morpheus's voice drifted from somewhere behind them, and they slowly turned around.

"Are we gonna do this again?" Emma asked sharply. "You know we can do what you do now. And there are two of us."

Morpheus made a tsk-ing sound, shaking his head with a smile. "Ah, but you haven't been doing this nearly as long as I have. And unlike you, I don't have anything you can take from me here...yet." He waved his hand, sending Killian end-over-end through the air and slamming him down head-first into the pavement with a sickening thud. He lay very, very still in a widening pool of blood.

Emma didn't think - she just reacted, throwing her arms forward and sending a powerful pulse of light right at Morpheus, throwing him backwards onto the hood of a nearby car with enough force to shatter the windshield. He lay there stunned for a moment as Emma ran toward Killian, then he vanished, reappearing right in front of her and sending a blast of his own that threw her onto her back on Regina's lawn, skidding several feet.

"You can't win this, Emma," he said, advancing on her. Emma scrambled backwards, but he hit her again, slamming her into the ground. "I'm stronger." He hit her again. "I'm faster." The volleys were coming non-stop, and Emma's body convulsed and shook with each one, knocking the air out of her, cracking and breaking bones when they hit. She coughed, and a spray of blood came out. He stood over her, ready to deliver the final blow.

"You're no match for me, and you never will be." He raised his arm, but before he could bring the blow down, the tip of a cutlass ripped through his chest and he glanced down in sheer disbelief. A moment later, he vanished completely.

Killian staggered forward, falling to his knees next to Emma, and her hand reached across, her fingers twining with his.

They died together.

###

She was running.

She could feel the wind rushing by her, pulling at her but not slowing her down. The trees were a blur, she was going so fast. The blood rushed through her veins, pushing through her pounding heart and the power gathered in her muscles as they pushed her on and on and on.

She could run all night, and never tire of it.

At last, she slowed, sensing him coming up behind her. He nuzzled her hindquarters, and she turned about, pressing her head into his flank. He gave her a playful nip and she jumped back, giving him a clear path to take off, which he did, leaving a stirring of leaves and dirt in his wake. She chased after him, yipping and howling, determined to run him down, and very nearly knocked him over when he ran into the shadows and came out human on the other side.

She pulled herself up, taking human form, and stood in front of him, panting.

"Wow, are you fast," she said, with a laugh. "I don't think I would have caught you if you hadn't slowed."

"It comes from a lifetime of evading escape," he joked. He put his hands on his hips, glancing around. "Am I to take it that this dream belongs to Red?"

"I'd say that's a safe bet," Emma replied. "I suppose we should go and find her." She glanced around as well. "Are we in Storybrooke, do you think?"

"Hard to tell in the woods," Killian said. "It might be better if we change back. If we are in Storybrooke, Morpheus won't be expecting a couple of wolves prowling about. He got ahead of us last time."

"You came here from there?"

Killian nodded.

"Me, too," she said. He reached out, pulling her closer and she laid her head against his shoulder.

"This is nice," she mumbled. "Just you and me and the trees and the quiet. Nothing exploding, no broken bones or wizard duels...just us."

He closed his eyes, savoring along with her. "'Just us' does sound incredibly good. We don't get many quiet moments, you and I."

A howl in the distance made Emma sigh out loud. "That's the call," she said. "We'd better get going."

He gave her a devilish grin. "Keep up if you can."

"You're on!"

They took off in a blur of claws and fur, running between the trees, dodging the rocks and fallen logs like they were nothing, until they skidded to a stop outside the den. Emma made her way inside, with Killian right behind. Once they got a good look at the interior, they both resumed human form.

"I'm so glad you made it," Red said. "I thought for a moment we might have lost you."

"What is this place?" Emma asked.

"It was a castle once, now sunken underground," Red replied. "No one in the kingdom knows about it but us. You'll be safe here." She gestured over to the long table within the hall. "We have plenty of food."

"And the bedchambers are down that hallway," said a girl who was standing behind her. She pushed her long brown hair back off her shoulders, revealing the deep opening of her shirt above her corset. She smiled up at Killian. "The last one on the right is free, if you'd like to sleep in a bed tonight."

"Thank you," Killian said, "For your hospitality."

"Our pleasure," the girl replied. "I'm Nia."

"_We're_ very grateful for the room," Emma said, with a little too much emphasis. Killian bit back a smile.

"Stay as long as you'd like," Red offered. "The queen won't even know you're here." She gave them a smile and a nod, and then she and the girl walked over to join the others of her pack, who were gathered near the fireplace.

"Are you hungry?" Killian asked, interrupting Emma staring daggers at the girl's back.

"No." She shook her head. "You?"

"No."

His eyes held hers, and the glow of the firelight was nothing compared to the heat in his gaze. He held out a hand, and she took it.

###

Three hours later, she stirred in his arms, stretching and re-settling herself against him, sliding a shapely leg over one of his.

"Careful love," he murmured, his voice husky from sleep. "You're waking me up and there are consequences for that."

"Mmmmm," she said, rubbing her face against his chest. "It's a price I'm willing to pay." Her hand slid across the planes of his stomach, feeling the taughtness of the muscles as her touch took effect. He groaned, rolling to his side to face her and pulling her leg more fully over his hip.

"How is it," he asked, kissing her. "That I can't seem to get enough of you?"

She laughed softly. "You _are_ an insatiable pirate," she said, kissing him back and pushing herself up against him.

"Only where you're concerned, love." His hand slid down and over her behind, his fingers trailing down and stroking at the heat between her legs. Emma kissed him deeply, her hands twisting in his hair, feeling like she could never bring him close enough. Her breasts rubbed into his chest and she moved against his fingers, closing her eyes at the feel of him teasing and exciting every nerve ending in her body.

She let out a long sigh when he finally slid inside her, tipping her head back and moving with him in a slow, sensual dance that was somewhere between sleep and wakeful ecstasy, rhythmic and slow but building with every surge of him into her. She heard him whisper her name and she opened her eyes, looking at his face in the candle's glow, feeling like she could fall into the depths of his eyes. The movements were stronger now, unstoppable, powerful, pulling them both over the edge.

It was some time later before she could move again, brought back to reality by the feel of his hand lazily stroking her hip. She rolled back into him, pulling herself up and resting her head on his chest.

She yawned widely, and he let out a low chuckle.

"Are you tired, love? I was ready to have another go at it."

She looked up at him. "You're kidding, right?"

"I was," he replied. "But now that I've seen your face, I feel like I've been challenged."

"Well save it," Emma replied. "We have a long walk ahead of us tomorrow."

"We do?"

Emma pushed herself up, stacking her hands on his chest and resting her chin on them. "Mmm-hmm. If that amulet was in Gold's shop in Storybrooke, that means it's in the Enchanted Forest at his castle, most likely. We need to talk Red into taking us there."

"And then she, being our dreamer, can let them know we finally have the damned thing."

"That's the plan."

"Provided we're not murdered again," Killian supplied.

"I like your idea," Emma said. "We go undercover. He won't be looking for wolves."

"Perhaps we can get some of her friends to join us - the more decoys, the better."

Emma's eyes narrowed. "Friends? As in that little brunette?"

He chuckled again, kissing the top of her head. "You know, I like you jealous."

"I'm not jealous," she said mulishly. He raised a brow and smiled at her.

"Okay," she admitted. "I'm a little jealous. She was looking at you like you were a meal."

"Considering she's a wolf, that's not exactly enticing."

He pulled her back down, stroking her hair as she settled into him. She was almost on the edge of sleep when his lips met her forehead and he said softly, "You don't have to worry about her, love. Or any of them."

"Okay," she yawned, smiling as she closed her eyes.

"Wolves...they mate for life, you know."

"Really." Her voice was a sleepy mumble.

"It's a fact," he assured her.

"Mmmm." she made a non-committal noise, and her breathing deepened. He felt her body relaxing into sleep, and he leaned down to kiss the top of her head, his arm tightening around her.

"Wolves...and pirates," he said.

He fell asleep with a smile on his lips.


	32. Dilemma

Emma snuggled into Killian, feeling him warm against her back. She pulled his arm tighter around her with a soft, contented sound. Killian responded with a nuzzle on the back of her neck, bringing a smile to her lips.

He cracked his eyes open, and the thin light of an early dawn registered somewhere within his fuzzy brain. The next thing he noticed was the cold. He pulled the blanket up higher over the both of them, closing his eyes again.

"What time is it?" Emma murmured sleepily.

"Go back to sleep," he said, his voice a bit husky. "It's early yet, love."

"It's freezing in here." She moved back against him, trying to pull more of his warmth into her.

"I'll get you warm," he offered, bringing a hand up to cup her breast through her shirt. He opened his eyes again, and suddenly realized that he shouldn't be seeing the dawn's light at all. Not underground, anyway. A chipmunk scurried across the blanket, startling him.

He was instantly alert, and Emma felt his body stiffen.

"Wha - ?"

"Shhh." He whispered to her. "We're in another dream. We must've moved out of Red's dream and into this one."

Emma lifted her head, looking around. "Where are we?" she whispered back.

They lay under a blanket on the cold, hard ground. A fine layer of snow was all around them, and they looked to be in the middle of the woods. There were tents scattered about and a few campfires that had burned mostly down to embers.

"I don't know," Killian answered. "Luckily, we appear to have landed here fully clothed. That could have been potentially embarrassing."

Emma rolled to her back so she could look up at him. "Did you come straight here?"

"Yes. You?"

"I did. That's twice now we've transferred together," she noted. "Do you think we have a prayer of that continuing?"

Killian shrugged. "I've no idea. Rumpelstiltskin did say that we might eventually begin to navigate the dreamscape together."

"Well, let's hope he's right." Emma sat up. "How come we don't get a tent?"

"Probably because we weren't expecting you." Robin's voice came from somewhere behind them, and they both turned to look at him. "Did you just feel like camping out?" he asked.

"Yeah," Emma said, forcing a wide smile. "You guys always make it look so...fun."

"Next time, you need to let me know you're going to be joining us," he said, moving over to the fire that was nearest them. "Give me a moment to build this up and you'll be warm in no time."

"Thank you," Killian said. He gave Emma a glance and then looked back at Robin. "You know, it was rather dark last night when we found you - where exactly are we?"

Robin looked at him strangely. "We're just north of town," he replied. "If you walk over that ridge, you'll see the toll bridge and the path that will take you back." He squatted down, throwing more kindling and logs on the fire. "It's not quite time for breakfast yet, I'm afraid."

"That's all right," Emma said. "We can't stay for breakfast. We have to go."

"We do?" Killian looked a bit miffed at missing his breakfast. Emma raised her brows and gave him a look. "Aye, we do," he agreed begrudgingly.

"Robin?" Regina's voice called out from a nearby tent.

"I'll be right there," he called back. "We'll catch up with you in town, then," he said to Emma. He gave her a smile and a nod, then stepped back inside his tent.

"Mmmmm. You smell like forest..." Regina's voice carried through the opening before Robin closed the tent flap behind him.

"Well," said Emma, "I guess that settles the question of whose dream we're in."

"It could be Robin or Regina," Killian said.

"Not Regina. She'd never dream of sleeping in a tent on the cold, hard ground."

"Good point."

Emma pushed herself up to her feet, stretching to work out the kinks and trying to finger-comb her hair. "Sorry to keep you from breakfast, but we've got an amulet to grab before you-know-who shows up."

Killian sighed, rolling out of the bedroll and up to his feet. "I know. Are you planning to use the same strategy on Rumpelstilskin?"

"Why not? It worked last time."

"Too bad we didn't retain our wolf forms," Killian said. "Something tells me we're too exposed like this, particularly if Regina is nearby."

"You're right," Emma said. "We need to go undercover."

"What do you suggest?"

Emma smiled. "A raid on my parent's closet."

###

"I saw them!" Red ran up to David and Snow on the street as they were loading baby Neal into his car seat.

"Emma and Hook?" Snow asked.

"Yes! They were part of my pack!"

"Wait - they were _wolves_?" David asked, astonished.

"Yes, but we were back home, in the Enchanted Forest." Red gave an apologetic wince. "Sorry. Are you on your way to the animal shelter?"

David shook his head. "No. We can't risk tipping our hand until we know they've got that amulet. If Morpheus realizes we know where the sphere is, he may move it to keep us from getting it. And we can't push him through until Hook's in position on the other side."

"Did they say anything?" Snow asked.

"No," she shook her head. "They wanted some alone time, I think."

David rolled his eyes. "They're supposed to be finding a way out of there," he said.

"David, we have no idea what they're going through in there," Snow said. "Would you rather her be facing it all alone?"

David let out a heavy sigh. "I'd rather her not be facing it at all."

Snow slid an arm around him. "That's not how our lives work, and you know it."

Red gave them both a smile. "If it's any consolation - they looked happy. At least, in my dream they were."

"I don't suppose I can fault them for taking some happiness wherever they can get it," David said. "I just want her home."

Snow put her head on her husband's shoulder. "Me, too," she said.

###

"No. Absolutely not. I am _not_ wearing that," Kiillian said, pointing a finger emphatically.

"Come on, it's the oldest trick in the book and it usually works," Emma said. "I've seen perps do it a thousand times. Dressing as the opposite sex makes you look entirely different."

"In case it's escaped your notice Swan, I happen to have a beard."

"So wear a scarf."

"And the hook?"

"Keep your hand in your pocket." Emma reached in the closet, pulling out a floral dress with a large bow at the collar and holding it up against him.

"No." Killian shook his head.

"Would you rather have a skirt and cardigan?"

"I'd rather have something with at least a _touch_ of style. That dress looks like it was made from curtains." He grabbed it out of her hands and shoved it back in the closet. "What about your red jacket?"

Emma was shaking her head before he even finished the sentence. "No. No way."

"Afraid I'll look too good in it?"

Emma's eyebrows went up at the clear challenge in his tone.

"Nobody wears the red jacket but me."

"If I pair that with my leather pants and a set of heels - yours, not your mother's - I think I'd turn a few heads." He reached out, running his fingers along the sleeve of her jacket.

"More like you'd turn your ankles. My heels are all very high. I like 'em four inches or more."

"That's what she said." Hook gave her a saucy smile and waggled a brow.

"Who the hell taught you that?"

Hook chuckled. "Neal. See? I can blend right in with the modern world. I don't need to be lurching about in high heels and badly tailored skirts."

Emma shook her head. "Just put on the curtains and let's get over to the store."

###

"Miss Swan," Gold said, a bit uneasily. "To what do I owe the pleasure of you and a cross-dressing pirate?"

Killian's eyes narrowed and Emma put up a hand to stop him from saying something rude.

"We're sort of undercover."

"So I gather." He gave Killian a look of disdain. "Though I must thank you for the afternoon's entertainment."

Killian rolled his eyes and tossed his head back. "Get on with it," he growled out.

"We're looking for a specific amulet." Emma looked down into the case, then turned to Killian. "It's not here!"

He started forward, twisting his ankle a bit and letting out a curse before biting his lip and shifting his weight to the other leg. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." She turned back to Gold. "Maybe you've got it in the back or something. It's got a red stone - it's supposed to give you dreamless sleep."

"I know the very one you speak of," Gold replied. "I sold it earlier this morning."

"To who?" Emma asked.

"One of the Merry Men. The large one."

"Little John," Killian said. "I don't recall seeing him at camp."

"Did he say where he was going with it?" Emma asked.

"Alas, Miss Swan, he did not. And while this has been terribly amusing," he gave Killian a pointed look, "I have other business to attend to." He turned and walked through the curtains into the back of the shop.

"Great!" Emma said as they slammed out the door. "I can't believe it's a coincidence that Little John has that amulet."

"It smells like a trap," Killian said, as they walked back toward the footpath. "You know he can't be far from Regina. Robin did say they were waiting on breakfast. It's possible Morpheus is one of the Merry Men, and was out in a hunting party with Little John."

"And he knew we'd be looking for him. After that cutlass you rammed through his chest, I would guess he's as scared of us as we are of him," Emma said.

"Oh, I wouldn't count on that."

Morpheus's voice came from above them, and they looked up just in time to see him throwing the amulet at them from the roof. Emma froze it in mid-air a split second before it would have shattered on the ground. Killian reached down with his hook, pulling it up, and that quickly, it was whisked out of his grasp and back in Morpheus's hand. Emma's flicked her wrist, and the amulet appeared in her hand, only to slide through her fingers and almost hit the ground again. Killian managed to hook it again, just before a fireball knocked him sideways. Emma shot out a blast at Morpheus, knocking him hard enough to send him staggering, before she got knocked off her own feet. She hit the dirt, and Killian yanked her back up by the arm. He pointed off toward the shadows of a nearby alley.

"Look!" he called out. "Regina!"

Morpheus whipped his head around, unable to see into the alley from where he stood. He ran for the far side of the roof and Killian pulled Emma with him, running hard for a side street nearby.

"We've got to get out of here!" he shouted. "While we've got the amulet!"

"Can we move to another dream voluntarily?" she called back, rounding a sharp corner beside him.

"I say we try," he panted. "Wait..." he dug in his pocket, pulling out the compass and holding it in his hand. He reached over, and Emma wrapped her fingers around it, twining them with his fingers.

"You think this will keep us together?"

"Let's try it. Concentrate on staying together," he said.

"Staying together, but out of here!" she replied, as a fireball glanced off the side of the building next to her. "One...two...three...go!"

Her hand wrapped around the bottle, and she poured it carefully into the glass.

"Here's mud in your eye!" called the old man, tossing the shot back. He reached out to rub Emma's knee, and she looked down, startled to see it was clad in fishnet stockings, and her foot was propped up on a nearby chair as she leaned into the table. Her ruffled petticoats were a bright shade of scarlet beneath her black skirt and corset, and the long feather stuffed into her hair was tickling the side of her face.

She gave a cursory look around as she pushed the old guy's hand off her knee.

"A saloon?" she said. "Really?"

She shook her head at the rowdy music being banged out on the out-of-tune piano, the light fixtures made of antlers, and the painting of dogs playing cards on the wall. She was just about to pour herself a drink when her name was called.

"Emma!"

She turned to see Dr. Whale, sitting with his back to the wall and raking in the riches of his latest poker game. She walked over to him, her eyes shifting around the room, still trying to find Killian.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"Now Emma," he said, slipping an arm around her. "Just 'cause I bedded your mama doesn't mean I'm overlooking you. You're one of Miss Regina's best girls."

Emma made a disgusted face. "Move the arm or lose it," she said, narrowing her eyes.

"C'mon, honey," he cajoled. "I just had the sudden urge to talk to you, is all. Storybrooke got a whole lot prettier the day you stepped out of that stagecoach."

"Storybrooke?" Emma looked around. "I'm in Storybrooke?"

Whale looked at her oddly. "Well, where did you think you were?"

"No, no - Storybrooke is fine," Emma reassured, not wanting to jolt him out of his dream. "I definitely want to be here."

He grinned up at her. "Now that's more like it," he leered. "Now how's about we get on some friendlier terms? I just won enough to buy you for the whole night." He ran his hand down her arm.

Emma's brows went up as a look of horror crossed her face, replaced in an instant with relief at the sound of a familiar voice.

"Get your hand off my woman," Killian demanded. He pushed through the saloon doors, his boot heels ringing on the wooden floor. The music and all conversation came to a sudden stop as everyone gaped at the two of them.

"It's him!" someone whispered.

"He's back for revenge!"

Whale suddenly turned three shades paler. "Mr. Jones," he said, giving a very nervous nod. "Good to see you've recovered."

"I have," Killian said. "Completely. Now kindly step away from my woman before I'm forced to show you just how recovered I am."

Whale pushed back from the table, and got to his feet.

"We all know that when I shot your hand off, you had to learn to shoot with the other hand," he said, narrowing his eyes at Killian. "I'm a betting man, and I'm willing to bet you aren't anywhere near the crack shot you used to be."

Killian didn't flinch. His gaze was unwavering. "You willing to chance that, mate?"

Whale puffed out his chest with false bravado. "Maybe I am."

Emma stepped between them. "Are you kidding me? A gunfight? In the middle of Storybrooke?"

"Underneath the old clocktower will do just fine," Whale suggested. "That way I can properly note the time of death."

The eyes of the people in the saloon were swinging from one man to the other, the excitement a palpable, pulsing thing. The two men eyed each other with steely determination. You could have heard a pin drop.

"Well," Emma said, smiling brightly and fanning herself with the lacy fan that was stuffed into her garter. "Get this done quickly, doctor," she begged, batting her eyelashes and leaning into him. "The preacher won't wait forever!"

Whale jumped visibly. "The preacher?"

"He rolled into town on the last stage," Emma said. "And if we're going to be married, we'd better get him before he moves on." She batted her lashes at him again. "You _do_ want to marry me, don't you?"

Whale swallowed hard. "Well...I..."

"I mean, you keep talking about you and me, and what's a girl to think?" she ran her fan playfully across his arm. "I accept your proposal, of course. I always wanted to marry a doctor."

She made doe eyes at him and he backed away. "You hold that thought, Emma," he said. "I just have to...see to some things." He gave Killian a nod, then turned and ran for the swinging saloon doors, leaving a trail of dust in his wake.

The music started back up, and Emma made her way over to Killian, who was grinning in full admiration at her. She reached up, nudging the brim of his black cowboy hat.

"I like it," she said. She glanced down to the rest of his unrelieved black attire. "Still in leather, I see."

"It certainly has more charm than the last outfit you saw me in."

Her eyes widened. "We did it? You came right here?"

"I did, albeit down the street from you."

"Me, too - I came right here."

"Luckily, we're in Storybrooke," he pointed out. "Which turns out to be a fortuitous circumstance, since the amulet didn't come with us."

"What?" Emma smacked a hand to her forehead in pure exasperation. "Are you telling me we have to find this thing fresh every time we change over?"

"It would appear so," he said with a grimace.

"And once we get it, how does our dreamer let anyone else know without waking up to do it?"

Killian shook his head.

"That, love, is a very good question."


	33. Breaking The Mold

Emma stood in the middle of the road, taking it all in. Main street looked like it was straight out of the old west, but all the businesses were the same. The saloon was exactly where Granny's should be.

"We've got to figure this out," Emma said. "Any ideas?"

Killian shook his head. "What we need is for Rumpelstiltskin to speak through someone again."

Emma shook her head. "No, that wouldn't work, either. He told me to talk to Belle, but he also said she would remember it after she woke up."

"And therein lies the rub," Killian remarked. "How do we send a signal to the realm of reality without waking the dreamer?"

Emma suddenly sucked in a breath, reaching out to grab Killian's arm. "Realms!"

"What?"

"The dreamscape. It's a realm, just like the Enchanted Forest is a realm. And Neverland. And Storybrooke."

Killian looked at her in confusion. "Presumably."

"So we need to find someone who can move between the realms."

Killian's eyes went wide. "A mermaid."

"Do you think we can summon Ariel just by thinking about her? Would Whale have her in his dream anywhere?"

Killian kept his face expressionless. "We don't have to scour the dreamscape for her love, any mermaid will do. If we can get the amulet and then get to the ship before the good doctor wakes up, I can sail us to where the mermaids gather."

She shaded her eyes, looking around. "Do you suppose your ship is here somewhere?"

"It should be."

Emma bit her lip. "No, it's got to be her. There's no guarantee any other mermaid would help us out. We don't have the best track record with them, if you remember. Besides, she owes you. You helped her get back to her true love."

Killian dropped his eyes. "So I did." He gestured with his hand toward the street. "Well, best be moving along. We've got an amulet to - "

He was interrupted by the sound of a loud explosion, followed by a shockwave that knocked them off their feet. He shouted her name over the ringing in his ears, and when the smoke stopped billowing over them, he was relieved to see her on her hands and knees, next to him, coughing. He crawled over to her.

"You all right?"

She nodded, coughing some more. "What was that?"

"It came from down there." Killian pointed off down the street. He got to his feet, extending a hand down to help Emma, which she took gratefully.

She tilted her head to the side. "My ears are ringing."

"It was one hell of a blast."

The started off down the street, and it didn't take long to see what had happened. There was a giant, smoking crater - right where Gold's shop used to be.

"What the hell...?" Emma said with dawning disbelief.

Killian pulled her arm. "We need to get out of here. If he did this - and I don't know who else would - that means he's nearby." He reached in his pocket for the compass, and Emma's arm shot out, as if reaching for him. Before he could put the compass in her hand, she fell into him, and that was when he saw the point of the arrow protruding from her chest. He turned back to see Morpheus re-loading the crossbow, and he pressed the compass into Emma's palm, holding it tight as he pulled her along, running and thinking hard.

"Stay with me, love. Together. Think "together," he said as he half-pulled, half dragged her.

The arrow hit his back just as they emerged into the center of a crowd. He stumbled a bit, pulling Emma sideways out of the mob of people and leaning against a nearby wall. He pulled her into him, running his hand up and down her back.

"Emma...Emma, love...talk to me," he begged.

She took in a deep breath, leaning her forehead into his chest. "I'm okay," she said. "Just give me a minute."

"Gladly." He rubbed her back, reassuring himself that she was whole and intact. Finally, she pulled back, shoving her hair out of her face.

"He beat us to it_ again_," she said.

"That he did," Killian agreed. "He knows what we're after, and unfortunately, he knows exactly where to find it."

He had to yell that last part, because the sound of a band playing loudly all but drowned him out. Emma cupped her hand to her own mouth so that she could be heard.

"What the hell is going on?"

They pushed through the crowd and it was clear they were in Storybrooke, on main street, and in the middle of what appeared to be a parade. Colorful floats, covered in flowers and streamers made their way through the town, and right behind the marching band was the biggest float of all, shaped like an enormous, layered cake, and sitting at the top was...

"Dopey?" Emma looked over at Killian. "We're in Dopey's dream."

"Isn't he the one who can't talk?"

"That's the one. Guess he loves parades."

"The crowd might actually assist us. If we can stay low and behind them, Morpheus may not see that we're here," Killian pointed out.

Emma nodded, motioning him to follow her. They made their way through the crowd until they stood across the street from Gold's shop. Emma crouched down behind a row of people, pulling Killian down with her.

"We have to get across the street," she said. "And we have to do it without being noticed."

"Perhaps if we wait until the end - when the crowd disburses," Killian suggested.

"What if the end of the parade is when he wakes up?" Emma asked. "We can't afford to wait. Now let's grab that amulet and get to your ship."

Killian nodded. "Very well." He straightened up and looked between the heads of the crowd. "There's a large marching group about to come by. We may be able to move through them as they pass."

"All right," Emma said. "Let's do it." They skirted around the crowd, staying low, and watched as a group of grade-school children in an unruly group marched behind a large banner. Emma gave Killian a quick nod, and then darted out into the middle of them, with Killian close behind. They'd just started for the other side when a sound like a thunderclap rang out, and a ball of fire swept down the street toward them, burning everyone in the parade and along the side of street alive as it went.

"Run!" Killian spun her around, pulling her arm as they fled, and Emma felt the compass pressing into her palm. The heat against her back was unbearable, and she closed her eyes tight, thinking only of Killian as hard as she could. Then, with a gust of searing wind, the flames overtook them.

Emma's hair blew into her face, and she reached up a gloved hand to push it back. The air rushed by her as she dipped, and the shouts of the crowd echoed all around her. She only had a moment to register Henry whizzing by her before she realized she was flying.

And she was on a broom.

She gripped the handle for dear life once she realized she was several hundred feet above the ground. Her eyes scanned the pitch, locating Killian as he wobbled on his own broom, just in front of the goal. She leaned forward and her broom zoomed toward him. She pulled up sideways in front of him and gave him a cheeky grin over her shoulder.

"Where the hell are we?" he shouted. "And why the hell am I on a flying broom?"

"You're a keeper!" she shouted back. "We're playing Quidditch!"

"What?" He looked at her in pure confusion, then his eyes went wide. "Duck!"

A ball whizzed past Emma's head and Killian ducked out of it's way. It flew past him, right through the center hoop behind him. The announcer called the score and the crowd alternated between cheers and boos.

"What are you doing?" Emma called out.

"The bloody thing was about to smash my face in!"

"You're supposed to keep it from going through the goal!"

"Well, how the hell was I supposed to know that?"

Just then, Leroy zoomed by, brandishing his bat in a very threatening manner. "Jones! If we lose this game...!"

His threat hung in the air as he turned his broom and flew off. Emma raised her brows. "I'd better get my head in the game. We don't want Henry waking up."

"Henry? This is his dream?" Killian lurched, almost falling from his broom again.

"I can't imagine anyone else here read Harry Potter, let alone watched the movies."

"You did, I take it."

"Are you kidding? Henry was obsessed with all of it. I spent a solid year watching the movies on an endless loop." She pointed up to where Henry circled the pitch. "He's the seeker - it's his job to find the golden snitch. You're the keeper, so just...stay on the broom and block the ball!"

She zoomed off and three successful goals later, Henry caught the snitch and the game was over. Killian managed to guide his broom to the ground, falling off of it a bit clumsily next to Emma, who was talking to Henry.

"Mom! What are you doing here?" Henry asked.

"Uh...alumni game," she said. "Remember?"

"You didn't go to Hogwarts." Henry looked at her in confusion.

"We've got honorary degrees," she improvised.

"Cool. They're having a party back at the common room to celebrate our win."

"You go on ahead, I'll be there in a few," she said, ruffling his hair.

Killian picked his broom up off the ground, staggering when Leroy's elbow impacted his side as he passed by. Leroy gave him a dirty look over his shoulder and kept on walking.

"So much for friendship," Emma said, watching him go. "He's not a very good Hufflepuff."

"A what?" Killian looked at her with a raised brow.

"Hufflepuff. It's your house. There are four of them. Henry and I are Gryffindors. That means we're really brave." She gave him a once-over. "I must say, I would have figured you for a Slytherin. They're kind of...more your type."

"And that is...?"

"Cunning. Occasionally villainous. Out for themselves."

Killian tried to keep the hurt from his eyes but she saw it anyway. "Well, perhaps Henry sees me a little more clearly than everyone else does."

Emma stepped closer, reaching out to touch his face. "He's right. I'm sorry - I didn't mean it like that."

He looked down. "No, you were right to question him. I've never been known for my spirit of collaboration."

"Hufflepuffs are known to be fierce and loyal friends, Killian. If you care about someone - really care about them - that's you."

He smiled. "And you've got more guts than any woman I've ever met."

She grabbed him by the edge of his cloak, pulling him behind the stands and away from the view of passersby. Before he could ask her what she was doing, she was kissing him.

Killian was momentarily startled, but a second later his arms were sliding around her and he was kissing her back with serious enthusiasm. When the kiss finally ended, he was a little out of breath, looking down at her with curiosity.

"What was that for?"

"For being you," she said. "Every bit of you - exactly who you are. The good, the bad, the clever and cunning, the brave and loyal - all of it. You don't fit into anybody's mold and I'm fine with that."

He gave her a lopsided grin. "Careful love - that was as close to a declaration as I've ever heard from you."

"Miss Swann!" Emma suddenly scooted back six inches through no effort of her own. She turned, facing the severe-looking witch with the tall black hat.

"Professor...McGonagle?"

Professor McGonagle lowered her wand. "The grounds of a Quidditch pitch are no place for...fraternization. As a representative of Gryffindor house, I fully expect you to observe all proprieties."

Emma's cheeks turned red. "Yes, Professor. Sorry."

McGonagle gave her one more shrewd look from behind her spectacles, tucked her wand away, and then with a swish of her cloak, she walked away.

Killian glanced around. "So now what? We're not in Storybrooke, or even in the Enchanted Forest. I suppose we'd better keep moving on."

He reached into the folds of his cloak, and found the compass. Emma reached out, putting her hand on his arm.

"Not so fast."

"What? We need to keep going, Swan. The amulet isn't here."

"You're right," Emma agreed. "And if it was, Morpheus would be one step ahead of us again, wouldn't he? As it is, he has no idea where we are yet."

"Because he'll assume we're trying to get back to Storybrooke," Killian said. "So...what?" You want to take a break for awhile? I'm sure we could find a spare room up at that castle..."

Emma gave him a smirk. "As nice as that sounds, there are children present. I have something else in mind."

"And that is?"

"What if we found something else? Something that did what the amulet does? He wouldn't see that coming, would he?"

"No," Killian said. "But how do you expect we'll manage that?"

Emma smiled, her eyes lighting up. "We're in a world of _magic_."


	34. Charmed

_**Hello everyone - yes, I know...this one was a bit overdue, but that's because I (yay!) published a book this week. This one isn't associated with the other pen name I use for the smut books :) mainly because it's a book on parenting and autism, the details of which you can find at the blog (SingleMomtism). In the meantime...I ran into a snag with the third Seeder book that will hopefully be resolved shortly. Sorry again for the delay on that one. I promise, it's worth the wait, especially if you fell in love with Miri and her boys - they figure prominently (along with Rain and Ajan) in the third book.**_

**_But enough about that stuff. Now it's time to get back to our beloved heroes, who are one step closer to getting to where they want to go..._**

* * *

><p>"You're not still sore about losing are you?" Emma ribbed, directing Killian through the castle doors. "We squashed your team pretty good. You're not much of a keeper."<p>

"You try staying on a flying broom one-handed," he replied testily. "So where do we find a replacement amulet?"

Emma shrugged. "I don't know...maybe we ask somebody who knows magic?"

"You know magic."

"Not this kind of magic," she said. "They use wands and stuff. I think I should start at the source. I'm going to ask Henry."

She led him down a corridor and Killian gave a visible start when the portraits on the wall said hello.

"What the devil?"

"Oh yeah," Emma replied. "The pictures do that here. Keep your eye out for a fat lady that sings."

"Why?"

"Because she guards the Gryffindor common room, and that's where Henry is."

"Fat, singing lady. Right."

Emma paused, looking around. "I think we might need to go upstairs. She started toward the nearest staircase, then pulled Killian closer. "Look! Over there - it's Nearly Headless Nick!"

Killian arched a brow. "Nearly Headless? How can anyone be 'nearly' headless?"

Emma put up a hand. "Don't ask." She hurried forward. "Hey...uh...Nick?"

"_Sir_ Nicholas, if you please," the ghost replied.

"Sorry. Can you tell me where to find the portrait with the fat lady?"

He crinkled his brow. "Aren't you a Gryffindor?"

"It's been a long time," Emma replied. "I got turned around in here."

Sir Nicholas nodded, rocking his head almost off his shoulders. "Take the stairs to your left, two flights up. Then make a right, unless the stairs take you right first, in which case, you'll need to make an eventual left."

"Beg pardon?" Killian said.

"Nevermind," Emma said to Sir Nicholas. "We've got it. Thanks!"

She grabbed Killian by the hand, leading him to the stairs. "Hold on," she said.

He gave her a wicked grin. "Gladly." He reached out to pull her into him, when the stairway suddenly jolted beneath him.

"Bloody hell!" he blurted out. "What kind of a school is this?"

"A magical one," Emma said, rolling her eyes. "Now keep up. The stairs are going right so we need to make a left whenever they stop."

"By all means," Killian said, gesturing with his hand. "Lead the way. The sooner we find Henry, the better."

The continued off the stairs and down the hallway, and as luck would have it, a few Gryffindors were just ahead of them, heading toward the portrait.

"Wait here," Emma said.

"What?"

"You can't go in. You're not a Gryffindor." She tugged at his robes. "Remember?"

He gave her a raised brow. "And what am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know...talk to a portrait or something. I'll be right back."

Emma followed the other Gryffindors through the portrait and discovered a full-on party on the other side, complete with a large assortment of Weasley's indoor fireworks, butterbeer and a game of exploding snap going on in one corner. She pushed her way through until she found Henry, who was sitting with his arm wrapped around a trophy, raising a glass of butterbeer with Neville Longbottom.

"Oh," Emma said, thoroughly nonplussed. "Hey, Neville."

"Good to see you!" he called back. "How are things in the Auror's office?"

Emma's brows went up. "Oh, they're...business as usual."

"Henry says you're their best curse-breaker."

"It's definitely my specialty. Hey, can you excuse us a moment? I need to talk to Henry."

"No problem." Neville moved off to take part in the game of snap, and Emma took his spot on the couch next to Henry.

"Hey kid."

"Hey Mom. You were great today!"

"You caught the snitch," she pointed out. "That makes you the big hero, not me." She patted his leg. "Listen, I need your help. Killian and I are looking for a special magical item, and I know you're more clued into this stuff than me."

"What kind of magical item?" Henry asked. "The ministry archive should have the information you need, unless it's dark magic."

Emma pursed her lips, thinking. "No, I don't think it's dark. It might be an amulet or a spell or something. We need to take away someone's dreams."

"You need to see into their dreams, or keep them from dreaming?" Henry clarified.

"Keep them from dreaming."

"Easy. You need a potion of dreamless sleep. Madame Pomfrey gives it out sometimes during final exams."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah, it's no big deal. Just ask her - she'll help you out." Henry gave a shrug.

"Right. I'll just go over to...the, uh...uh..."

"Hospital?" Henry added helpfully.

"Yeah. I'll go there, then. Thanks. I'll be right back."

Henry smiled, lifting his butterbeer. "I'll be here."

Emma made her way back out the door and found Killian sitting with his back against the wall, cuddling a cat.

"Is that Mrs. Norris?" Emma asked

Killian pushed himself up to his feet, cradling the cat in the crook of his arm. "Mrs. Who?"

"Mrs. Norris. She's the caretaker's cat. She hates everybody."

"She likes me well enough. For a moment there, I thought you were going to tell me she was a person in disguise."

"That would be an animagus," Emma said. "That's somebody who can change into an animal."

Killian held the cat out at arm's length. "Well, it wouldn't be the first time I made a woman purr," he observed, putting the cat down. "Did you find out what we need?"

"Yes. We need a potion of dreamless sleep, and we can get it from the hospital. Now we just have to figure out where that is."

"Leave that to me, love." Killian cleared his throat and approached the fat lady in her portrait. "Excuse me, can you help us, please?"

The fat lady gave him an odd look. "You're not a Gryffindor."

"No, I'm afraid not. But we're not going to let that keep us from fraternizing a bit, are we?" He gave her a slow, devilish grin and the fat lady's cheeks visibly reddened.

"I - I'm happy to help," she stammered.

"I was thinking that surely a lady as lovely as yourself is a veritable fountain of information."

"Well..." she blushed again, hiding her face behind her hand.

"I've come down with a bit of a headache, you see," he said, a little sadly. "And it's been several years since our tenure here. Can you direct us to the hospital?"

"Oh, you poor dear. I can sing for you. People consider my voice to be very soothing," she offered.

Emma stepped forward, holding up a hand. "No! No, that's fine. Really."

"Who's she?" The fat lady demanded.

"Don't mind her, love," Killian said, shoving Emma behind him. "I'd love to hear you sing, but under more...relaxed circumstances." He glanced up at her through his lashes, and she caved like a house of cards.

"Of course," she said, making doe eyes at him. "You walk through the east wing and make a left at the end of the corridor. That will take you directly to the hospital wing. You'll need to take the stairs up to see Madame Pomfrey."

"Thank you, my lady." He gave her a courtly bow, bumping into Emma in the process.

"Ow!"

He looked back over his shoulder. "Sorry, love." He turned back to the fat lady. "I'll be back soon. Light some candles." He gave her a wink and the fat lady leaned heavily against the wall of her portrait, staring after him as he pulled Emma down the stairs.

"You really know how to turn on the charm," Emma said grumpily. "I could have asked her. I'm a Gryffindor."

"She doesn't seem like the type that would do any favors," he said. "Is her voice really all that bad?"

"Yes."

He continued down the corridor, stepping onto another moving staircase. "So, what's next? We get the potion, but how do we get Morpheus here? And drinking it? And then how do we let them know on the other side?"

"One thing at a time," Emma suggested. "I have never been more grateful that my kid and I read together every night."

He reached out, taking her hand. "You're a good mother," he said. "And now it's paying off."

She smiled back. "You think so?"

His eyes brightened. "You forget, Swan, I've seen it first hand. I _know_ so."

"Come on." She pulled him along. "This is the place."

###

"Do you think Henry will like her?" Regina scratched the cat between its ears.

"She's a sweetheart - he'll love her," David said, setting the box on Regina's dining table. "And now you have a reason to visit the animal shelter, when the time is right."

"You weren't seen?"

"Not that I know of. It's the middle of the night and I kept the box covered. You can pretend you found a stray, when the time comes." He ran a tired hand over the back of his neck. "I'm going home to get some sleep."

"Hopefully, we get some good news soon," Regina said. She picked up the kitten, rubbing it against her face. "In the meantime, I'll take settle this little girl in my room. Henry's already asleep and I don't want to wake him.

###

"So this is the stuff," Emma said, holding up the flask. "But is this going to be enough?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...we have to find a way to get Morpheus here, then we have to get him to drink it. I think we need a little 'push.'"

"And that would be?"

"Come on, let's find Henry." She walked up the stairway, which swung left this time. "We need to get inside the common room, but I don't know the password."

"Leave that to me," Killian said, waggling his brows. He stepped around Emma.

"Hello, beautiful," he said, giving the fat lady a megawatt smile.

"You came back!" She brought a fluttering hand to her chest. "You actually came back."

"How could I stay away?" he asked. "I'd planned to bring some wine and cheese, perhaps a few candles..." he shook his head. "But alas, all of that is on the other side of the door."

"You're not a Gryffindor," she said. "I can't possibly - "

"Oh, I would never ask it of you, love," Killian said earnestly. "I can see you're a woman of strong moral character." He lowered his eyes, then looked up at her again, with devastating effect. "And it's _such_ a pity..."

"Fussbudget!" she blurted out. "The password. Speak it...and then come back out to me."

Killian gave her a cheeky grin. "Don't I always come back to you?"

She blushed deeply. "In you go."

The door swung wide, and Emma pushed in ahead of him, dragging him quickly through and then pulling him around a corner and into an alcove.

"Is this really the time and place," he asked. "Not that I'm not amenable..." he slid an arm around her.

"Killian." She pushed back from him. "We need to get you out of those clothes."

"Here? As you've pointed out, there are children about."

"I mean," she said. "We need to get you into Gryffindor robes. If you're seen in Hufflepuff dress it's going to cause a stir. If it causes a stir, it could jar Henry right out of his dream.

"Perhaps you should try this." Killian held out his hand, and in it was a wand.

"A wand?" Emma said. "You've got a wand?"

"It was in the pocket of my robes," he shrugged. "Go on. Wave it around and get me into your robes. Or we could use a more traditional method." He quirked that brow again.

"I don't even want to _think_ about how good you are at that," she said. "The fat lady will never be the same."

"Women never are, once they've met me."

"So humble," she said, leaning in to kiss him. "But I can't use that wand. It's yours."

"Mine?"

"You're in a world of magic," Emma said. "And it's your wand. Give it a try."

"You're serious." He raised both his brows.

"Go on." She closed his fingers around the wand.

Killian looked down, then he passed the wand slowly up and down his body, and his robes shimmered, changing colors. The crest altered, turning into a lion, and he looked up at Emma in surprise.

"I did magic."

"You did," she agreed. "How did it feel?"

"I'm bloody brilliant, that's how it feels." He grinned widely. "I think I could like it here."

"Yeah, well, don't get comfortable," Emma said, pulling him along by his robe. "We have work to do."

"What are we looking for now?" Killian asked, following behind her.

"We need Henry. Hopefully, he can help us find it."

"Find what?"

Emma gave him her trademark smirk.

"Liquid Luck."


	35. Don't Be Afraid Of The Dark

Henry was sitting by the fire, chatting amiably with Neville when Emma found him. The crowd in the common room had dwindled considerably due to the lateness of the hour, and only a handful of students and teachers remained. Emma slid into a spot on the couch next to Henry, gesturing Killian into an overstuffed chair across from them.

"What are you doing here?" Henry said, looking at Killian. "Aren't you a Hufflepuff?"

"The uh...Sorting Hat made a mistake," Emma said. "That's why he's here - he had to come back and get that straightened out."

"A mistake?" Neville looked incredulous. "The Sorting Hat never makes a mistake."

Emma leaned forward, lowering her voice to a whisper. "It does when there's a powerful curse on it."

Neville's eyes widened with shock. "Really?" he whispered back.

"Don't say anything," Emma cautioned. "We don't want to start a panic."

Neville nodded. "I understand."

"Since I've got you two here, I was hoping you could help me with something," Emma went on. "We need to get our hands on some liquid luck."

"Felix Felicis?" Henry's eyebrows went up. "That's serious stuff. You can't get that from Madame Pomfrey."

"They don't allow it in the auror's office?" Neville asked.

"Oh, they allow it. They're just...out of it right now." Emma explained.

"It's an extended process," Killian improvised.

"Six months or more to brew," Neville said. "The ingredients are difficult to find, and there aren't a lot of people who can brew it properly. It can be a disaster if it's done wrong."

"You look like you speak from experience," Killian said.

Neville gave a chuckle. "No, but I used to wonder if my mother hadn't brewed a bad batch and spilled it on me as a child."

"It's illegal to use in Quidditch," Henry said, tilting his head to Killian. "You know that, right?"

"That would be cheating," Killian said, raising his brows.

Henry gave him a look that clearly said he knew him too well.

"I barely know how to play the bloody game," Killian protested. "And I was flying a broom one-handed."

"I think you were too distracted looking at my Mom," Henry said with a grin.

"Well, that I'll own to," Killian answered. "Perhaps we could have a rematch sometime."

"You're on," Henry smiled.

"If you two are finished," Emma broke in. "We were talking about how we can find some liquid luck."

Neville chewed his lower lip. "Professor Gold may have some, but he's away right now."

Emma's eyes shifted to Killian, then back to Neville. "_Professor_ Gold?"

"He took over as potions master when Slughorn retired again," Neville explained. "But he's away at a Wizengamot conference this week. Everyone's having double Herbology instead."

"Can you tell me where to find his storeroom?" Emma asked. "I'm sure he won't mind if we borrow some."

Henry looked at her like she was nuts. "He doesn't leave the door open, you know."

"Let me worry about that," Emma said.

"I'll come along," Henry offered.

"No - you stay here for now." Emma said.

"And remember, we've got the dreamless sleep potion." Killian added.

"Yes," Emma said. "We've got the potion, which does the same thing the amulet we needed did."

"Amulet?" Henry looked confused.

"It was a...magical artifact I was hunting, but it got destroyed," Emma explained. "So it was important that I get the potion, and I did. I just wanted you to know your advice was good. Madame Pomfrey had the potion, and I got it."

Hook arched a brow and gave her a pointed look, so Emma shut up. She got to her feet and motioned Killian to join her.

"So tell us where to go and we'll be back soon," she said.

###

"I think I've turned my bloody ankle," Killian complained as they walked down the corridor. "Was it really necessary to wrap my cloak around my face before walking me out onto a moving staircase?"

"That face would've gotten us in a world of trouble if the fat lady had seen it. She was clearly waiting for you." Emma gave a delicate shudder. "I have no idea where she found a negligee that size."

He gave her a mischievous grin. "You're lucky she gave us the password. There's no telling what I would have had to do to get us back in."

Emma rolled her eyes, then paused before an ornate wooden door. "This is it," she said. She tried the knob, and true to Henry's word, it was locked. She reached in her pocket, pulling out her wand and screwed her face up, thinking.

"What was it again...? Aloha?" She gave the wand a flick and nothing happened.

Killian leaned against the wall. "What are you doing?"

"There's a spell for unlocking a door. Aloha more something. Wait - that's it!" She gave her wand a flick. "Alohomora!"

The door slowly squeaked open, and the room was dark as night inside. Emma tucked her wand back in her robes and started to take a step forward, but Killian put his hand on her shoulder, stopping her.

"Careful, love," he warned. "He wouldn't have made it that easy."

"This is 'dream Gold', remember?"

"Yes, and Henry knows just what he's like, doesn't he?"

Before Emma could add another comment, a figure stepped out of the darkness.

"Henry!" Emma's voice registered her surprise. "How did you - "

"Get out. I can't believe you would do something like this," he said angrily. "You come here and think you can just play at being my mother and I'm going _love_ you?"

Emma recoiled as though he struck her. "Henry - I don't - "

"You don't know the first thing about _really_ being a mother," he sneered.

She turned to look back at Killian, but he was frozen in place, eyes filled with dread, and when she turned back around, she faced...herself?

"Killian..." the other Emma gasped, falling to the ground, struggling for breath as she grew weaker...

Killian stepped forward, shouting her name, and Emma realized at once what was going on.

"Boggart!" She pulled him back. "Killian, it's a Boggart!" She grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her. "I'm here - I'm right here!" She pulled her wand out, trying to think. She needed something funny, she needed -

The Boggart, as if sensing a threat, turned back into Henry.

"Killian!" Henry said. "You will never, never be the man my father was. Even if you live another hundred years! It's your fault he's dead. You should have been there to help him - to help them all!"

Killian's eyes reflected the pain he was being lashed with. "Henry - " he pleaded, his hand reaching out. "Please believe me, I wanted the best for your father - "

"You wanted him out of the way!" Henry shouted. He looked at Emma. "You both did!"

Emma held her wand in her shaking hand, but no matter what she did, she couldn't think of a way to make this funny. She grabbed Killian's arm, tugging hard, and then ran for the door, dragging him with her. She pulled it shut behind her, sinking to the ground, her head against her knees and her shoulders shaking. Killian reached out, wrapping his arm around her.

"It's all right, love, it wasn't real. It wasn't real." He was repeating it as much for himself as he was for her. He felt like he'd been emotionally eviscerated - he could only imagine what Emma must be feeling.

"We can't go back in there," Emma said, raising her head to look at him. "_I_ can't."

His eyes met hers. "Neither can I."

Emma took a deep, cleansing breath. "So we come up with another option."

"Perhaps our friend Neville knows when Gold is coming back. He might even be able to request it from him, being a fellow professor."

"If we have that much time," Emma said. "We could have weeks, months, hours or minutes."

Killian stood up, reaching down to help her to her feet. "If there's one thing I've learned about my time in this place, Swan, it's that we can't worry about things that we have no control over. Let's just keep moving forward with our plan. Morpheus still has no idea we're here, and that puts us ahead for now."

"Neville..." Emma mused. "Maybe he find us a mandrake, we petrify Morpheus, and then we pour the potion in his mouth."

"Mandrake?"

"They're these horrible, screaming plants that look like ugly babies and you chop them up - "

Killian held up a hand, looking slightly ill. "That's enough. I'm not entirely sure I like having magic after all."

"I guess magic has its ugly side no matter where you go," Emma said, reaching up to wipe her cheeks with the backs of her hands. Killian beat her to it, wiping her face with gentle fingers.

"Henry would never say those things, you know. He set out to find you, remember? He wanted you in his life. He was willing to go under a sleeping curse to keep you there."

Emma nodded gratefully. "I know." She gave him a reproachful look. "There's a lot of that going around."

He gave her a sad little half-smile. "And for the very same reason, love."

He pulled her in and his lips brushed hers softly once, and then again. He took a deep breath, then he twined a lock of her hair in his fingers, pushing it back off her shoulder.

"Now let's go find some screaming, ugly plants."

###

"Mandrakes?" Neville asked with surprise. "Has someone been petrified?"

"Crap," Emma said, falling into an overstuffed chair. "They _fix_ you when you're petrified. I forgot."

"Is there nothing else we can use?" Killian asked, taking the chair next to her.

"Not unless you've got a basilisk handy," Emma said. At his blank look, she added, "It's a fifty-foot long snake that petrifies you if you look at it."

Killian eyes widened. "I'm definitely rethinking our summer home here, love."

"I could make a simple sleeping draught," Neville offered. "But if you're going to be taking a potion of dreamless sleep, that'll put you to sleep anyway."

Emma put her chin in her hand. "Damn. We really needed that liquid luck."

"I _might_ know a place where you could get some," Henry offered. "But you'll have to wait until morning. They're closed right now."

"Where?" Emma asked, sitting up straight.

"Number 93, Diagon Alley," Henry replied. "Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes."

"The joke shop?"

"They sell all kinds of potions," Henry shrugged. "And they sell a lot of them to students. I would imagine if there's a demand for it, they've got it."

"And it wouldn't be far if you're staying at the Leaky Cauldron," Neville added. "Unless you've taken rooms in Hogsmeade?"

"We're at The Leaky Cauldron," Emma lied.

"Then you'd better grab some floo powder and get going," Neville suggested. "Tom gets cranky if you arrive too late in the evening. He hates having to get out of bed to check you in."

"Floo powder?" Killian said with a good deal of confusion. "We're not flying on a broom?"

"You want to take a broom?" Henry said. "You'll freeze. It's cold out there."

"I like flying," he said, smiling to cover his snafu. Emma was giving him a panicked "Shut up!" look from behind Henry's back.

"He needs the practice," Emma quipped. "As you could plainly see earlier today."

Neville let out a guffaw and Henry smiled widely.

"The floo powder is right by the fireplace," Henry said, hugging Emma. "I'll see you guys tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Henry," Emma said.

"Killian!" Henry called over his shoulder. "Maybe tomorrow you can get some _practice_ in!"

Killian glowered, but wisely decided to remain silent on the subject. He reached out, shaking Neville's hand. "Good night, Neville. You've been a great help this evening."

"No problem," Neville said. "And don't let them get you down," he said, lowering his voice. "I'm probably the worst flyer you've ever seen. Never could handle a broom."

"Well, teaching is a fine profession," Killian said. "Nothing to be ashamed of. Not all of us can have fame, you know."

Neville gave him an odd look, then said goodnight to Emma and exited the room. Emma leaned in, poking Killian in the ribs.

"Did you really just say that?"

"What?"

"Neville Longbottom is about as hero as you can get, other than being one of the big three," Emma said.

"The big three?"

She gave him a look. "I don't have time to condense seven gigantic books, eight movies and a website into a paragraph, here. Suffice it to say, Neville's a rock star. And along with that, he grew up to be the best looking one of the bunch. I'd say he's got less than nothing to be ashamed of."

"Do you fancy him, Swan? I never figured you for a woman who preys on younger men."

She gave him a smirk. "Please. I've got my hands full with one portrait-charming pirate. Come on, time to step into the fireplace."

He looked at her in alarm. "You're serious."

"Yep. I'm going to grab the powder, but you call out the destination." She grabbed a fistful of floo powder, then stepped into the giant hearth.

"Why me?" he asked, climbing in next to her.

She smiled, taking his hand. "Because you're the one with the perfect enunciation."


	36. The Fear Inside

They arrived at The Leaky Cauldron to a moderately grumpy innkeeper who was just about to go to bed. He directed them to a spacious and somewhat drafty room on the third floor, gestured toward a pile of firewood in the corner, and bowed his way out, closing the door behind him.

"Brrr." Emma rubbed her hands up and down her arms.

"Give me a moment, love - I'll just build up the fire."

Killian got down on one knee, piling logs into formation. He turned, glancing around.

"What are you looking for?" Emma asked.

He looked over his shoulder at her. "Well, I don't see a coal pail or matches - how the devil does he expect us to light a fire?"

Emma pulled out her wand. "Magic...remember?" She stepped forward. "There's a word you use for the spell but when you get older you can just think what you want. I think."

She closed her eyes, concentrating, and pointed her wand at the logs. They burst into flame with an enormous roar, sending Killian tumbling backwards into her and knocking her down onto the carpet next to him.

"Damn!" he exclaimed. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"Sorry," she mumbled. "Guess I'm more powerful than I thought." She glanced over at him, and her eyes went wide. She clapped a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle the laughter, but it didn't work. She collapsed on the carpet, rolling over and holding her stomach, she was laughing so hard.

"What?" he asked, grinning widely at her good humor. "My near-death experience was amusing, was it?"

"Your - " she stopped, panting and laughing some more. "Your eyebrows are smoking!"

"What!" He reached up, slamming his hand against them, then howled when he caught himself in the corner of the eye with one of his rings. "Bloody hell!" He fell backwards, rolling next to her on the carpet. Emma leaned up on an elbow over him.

"Let me see," she said reaching out to pry his hand from his eye.

"No," he groaned.

"Come on...I didn't mean to nearly burn you alive," she said. "Now, let me look." She pried his fingers off and he squinted up at her.

"These brows are known across the realms, I'll have you know," he complained.

"Oh, I have _no_ doubt."

"And I know several tavern wenches who would have your head for gouging out my eye."

She gave him a look. "You gouged your own eye. And I know all about your tavern wench following. I've been one, remember?"

He reached up, tucking her hair behind her ear. "So you have. But they're well in the past love, since you came along."

Emma gave him a smile, but it was forced. He watched her curiously as she pushed herself to her feet.

"You can have the bed," she said. "I'll just curl up here by the fire." She reached out to pull the folded comforter off the bottom of the bed, and Killian gained his feet, straightening up slowly. He reached out and put his hand on her arm as she tried to spread the blanket on the carpet.

"What's this about?" he asked gravely. "Since when are you afraid of sharing a bed with me?"

"I..." Emma looked down, refusing to meet his eyes. "I just think maybe we need some distance tonight. That's all."

"Distance." She could feel his eyes burning into her but she still wasn't looking at him.

"It's been a long night - "

"All the more reason for you to climb into a soft bed," Killian said reasonably. He lifted her chin, forcing her face up. "Look, if you don't want me to touch you, you only have to say so. I've never forced myself on a woman in my life."

She brought her eyes up, startled. "I didn't think you would."

"Then what's the problem? After all you and I have been through - together - why the distance? Why tonight?"

She walked over to the bed, sinking down on it. "Because Henry was right."

"Henry?"

"Well, not Henry. The boggart."

"This is about that...thing?" Killian sat down next to her. "It wasn't even real, Swan."

"It was real enough. A boggart knows your deepest fears and transforms itself to play on them. And he was right on target with mine." Emma dropped her head back. "I did want Neal out of the way. Not like that, of course, but I did."

He reached over, taking her hand. "And I'm supposed to judge you for that, love? The boggart was right about me, too. I'd have never wished Neal dead, but I wanted him out of the way."

"Yeah, but not for the same reason," she said. She pushed her hands between her knees, and rocked for a moment in uncomfortable silence while she gathered her thoughts.

"I wanted him gone because I knew I couldn't love him like he wanted me to," she said.

Killian turned to look at her. "There's no shame in that. You can't help what you feel."

"Or don't feel," she said. "I didn't feel that way about him because - " she broke off, biting her lip and shaking her head, as if unable to continue. Killian reached out, taking her hand.

"Go on," he said.

She took in a deep breath, and let the words flow out in a rush. "Because I don't think I can love anyone that way. I don't have the capacity for deep, romantic, _true_ love."

He quirked a brow. "You don't _think_," he said, lifting her hand to his lips. "But you don't know, either."

"No, I know, all right. And that's the problem."

He looked at her steadily. "Because you're soon to be out of here and you don't think you can wake me when you get back."

Emma's eyes filled with tears and her voice broke as she answered him. "What if I can't?"

He stroked her knuckles with his thumb, watching the play of his fingers over hers. "Then you can't."

"You shouldn't have done this."

His eyes met hers again. "But I did. And I didn't do it out of any hope that you'd feel obligated enough to love me for it. I may have been a villain most of my life, but even I know that's not how love works."

She shook her head. "I know after all we've been through - there and here - it seems like this should be a no-brainer, but it's just not. Not for me."

"Well," he said with an overly-loud sigh, "It never is easy for you, love. And I would prefer that when you do make a decision, you do it with your brain as well as your heart. One without the other usually leads to disaster."

"I don't want you stranded here," she whispered.

"If we can get rid of Morpheus, it won't be all bad," he said. "I'll just find my way to you every night. I'll probably have more time with you that way than I ever got in Storybrooke."

He gave her a crooked grin, and she was lost.

"Killian..." she didn't know what to say, so she slid her arms around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss. His lips met hers, and his body kept going. She went down on her back, unresisting. It didn't take long before their clothing was out of the way and their bodies were straining against each other as their mouths met and hands moved over skin, tracing patterns of fire with every stroke and caress.

They rolled across the bed, and Emma came down on top of him, her hair forming a curtain around him, enclosing them in their own private world. She looked down at him as if memorizing his features, her fingers touching the planes of his face.

"Could it be like this," she asked, "Out of here?"

His lips met hers softly. "Ah, love," he murmured. "It can be better."

She slid herself down on him slowly, savoring every inch of him, her breath coming out in a long, slow exhale as she finally settled on him, pulling him in deep. His hand stroked her thigh and hip as she moved on him in a slow, sensual dance, her body taking over where her words failed her, and he gave back in equal measure.

He sat up, pulling her against him, his arms wrapping around her as their bodies slid and moved against each other. Emma let out a moan at the feel of his chest hair rubbing on her breasts and the incredible heat of him inside her, filling her as she held him fiercely, losing herself in the moment and in him. And when the pleasure swept them both away, she buried her face in his neck, sobbing.

He shifted, pulling her down next to him, his hand stroking soothingly on her back. "It's all right," he said, kissing her face, pushing her hair back. "It's all right."

She quieted eventually, and moved over to lay her head on his chest, and in time, she drifted off to sleep.

He held her tightly, wrapping his arms around her and giving himself up to slumber.

###

When he woke the next morning, Emma was already up and she had two large bowls of oatmeal, a teapot, and a platter of toast and sausages waiting for him on the table near the fire.

He ran a hand through his mussy hair as he sat up in bed.

"What's this?" he asked, yawning widely.

"Breakfast," she answered. "I figured we'd better eat while we can. Once we get what we're looking for, there's no telling where it'll take us."

"This...'liquid luck', as you call it - how does it work, exactly?"

"It's just like the name implies," Emma said. "You drink it, and just about anything you want to do works out for you somehow."

"We could have used that a good dozen dreams ago," he said, pulling on his pants before he walked over and joined her at the table.

"Tell me about it." She poured him a cup of tea and pushed the platter of food at him. "Now eat up. We've got a day full of magic ahead of us."

Right after breakfast, they made their way to the back exit of the Leaky Cauldron, and out into the courtyard. A large trash receptacle stood against one side of the wall, and Emma stared at it in dismay.

"Crap."

"What's the matter now?"

"You have to tap the right brick to get the entrance to open."

Killian raised his brows. "And you've no idea which one, I take it?"

Emma shook her head. "Nope. It's up and over from the garbage can but I can't remember how many."

Killian pulled out his wand, stuffing it between his teeth. Then he reached into his pocket and found the compass. He held it out toward the wall, waving it left, right, up, and down, and then finally he put it away, took the wand and tapped a stone. That did nothing, so he tapped the stone next to it. Suddenly, the bricks began to move, and within a few seconds, the archway leading into Diagon Alley appeared.

"The compass told you which brick to poke?" Emma asked.

"No." Killian shrugged. "It didn't show me a thing. I just took my best guess and planned on tapping each one until it worked."

"So you got lucky."

He grinned. "Perhaps we don't need that potion after all."

She smiled back. "Well, just in case your luck doesn't hold...let's find Weasley's."

Killian pointed through the archway. "Could that be it - the building with the large "W" and the fireworks going off overhead?"

"That'd be it."

They walked down the cobbled streets, watching the merchants as they turned over "Open" signs in their windows and set out merchandise for the shoppers to peruse. The smell of fresh, hot scones filled the air as they pushed open the door to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

"Morning!" Two voices called out in unison. Emma's face lit up in a delighted grin. "They're both here!" she whispered to Killian.

"And why wouldn't they be?" he whispered back.

"I hate to spoil it for you, but Fred dies in the last book," she whispered, her eyes darting over to the brothers.

"This is Henry's dream, love. He can have anyone in it he wants to have," Killian pointed out.

"Hi!" Emma called back. "We're looking for a special potion."

"You came to the right place," said George. "We've got a large range of potions to cover any need."

"We might be able to find something fun for your arm," Fred said, pointing at Killian. "I have a whole variety of attachments that we can adapt." He leaned in close, waggling his eyebrows.

"I like his thinking," Killian said raising a brow in response.

"Can we get back to the subject at hand?" Emma asked in exasperation. "We need some liquid luck."

"Felix Felicis?" George looked startled. "That's not easy to get. Terribly tricky to make."

"And a complete life-ruiner if you get a bad batch," Fred added.

"So hook us up with a good batch," Emma replied.

"It'll cost you," George said.

"Fifteen galleons," Fred said, unlocking a small cabinet behind the register.

Killian put a pile of gold on the counter, and Emma looked over at him suspiciously.

"Do I even want to know?" she asked in a low voice.

"Just go with it, Swan," he said between his teeth as he smile back.

Fred set the small bottle on the counter as George transferred the gold to the register.

"You've got enough there for twelve hours, give or take," George informed them.

"That'll be fine," Emma said, pocketing the potion. "And thanks. It was great meeting both of you." She pulled Killian with her out the door.

"Our reputation precedes us, Georgie," Fred said, smiling.

George leaned a hip against the counter. "Not surprised at all Fred. We're bloody amazing."

###

Emma stopped in front of Honeydukes, pulling the bottle from her pocket. She reached out to unstopper it, and Killian put a hand on her arm.

"Shouldn't you wait until we get back to the castle?" he asked.

"Nope. The sooner we find some luck, the better."

She tipped the bottle to her lips, and drank. Killian watched her carefully.

"Well?" he said.

Emma smiled, a slow, goofy smile. "We need to talk to Henry again." She grabbed his arm, pulling him along. "Come on, you've got a fat lady to charm."


	37. Felix

_**Hello readers! There's a new episode recap up on the blog (SingleMomtism dot com). I'm going to make an effort starting this upcoming weekend to go back and retro-review seasons 1-3, so watch for them.**_

_**One of you asked what my Facebook name is - My name on the blog is where you'll find me on Facebook (look for the name, plus "Writer/Blogger" for my professional page - and then throw me a "Like" if you're feeling generous). I'm not mentioning the name here because I use that name professionally on some more g-rated sites and while it wouldn't be the end of the world for anyone there to know I write the smut I write here (or elsewhere), I prefer to try to keep them separate entities, at least as far as a basic Google search is concerned.**_

_**And speaking of smut...If you loved "Eight Nights At Sea," get your fill of it now - I'm going to be taking it down before the end of the month and publishing it in e-book form (Edit to add: It's up! Check my author profile for the link!). Once that happens, I'll make an announcement here, and if you PM me then I'll give you a code for a free download. That book can easily stand-alone with a few tweaks and name changes, so I'm going to do that. The rest of the fics will remain - I promise.**_

_**I'm revising a large section of the final Seeder book - my beta readers thought I was racing through the plot and I need to expand it a little more so it's not so frantic in pace. It'll make for a better book, I promise. In the meantime...we have a fic to wind up, and now that Emma's got some liquid luck working for her, we may finally be on our way...**_

* * *

><p>It was no surprise to Emma that there was a group of Gryffindors passing through the door to the common room just as they approached, negating the need for any kind of fat lady charming, much to Killian's relief. He followed Emma's lead, since she seemed sure of where she was going. She stopped at the foot of the stairs and gestured up.<p>

"Henry's bed is up there, but he's going to come down here soon, anyway."

"Perhaps we shouldn't wait," Killian said, putting a foot on the stairs.

"No, I really think we should." Emma gave him a loopy smile and walked slowly over to the couch, sitting down in front of the waning fire. Killian sat down gingerly next to her.

"You're sure about this?" He raised a brow.

"Mmmm-hmm," she answered. She turned to look at him with dreamy eyes. "I'm sure about a lot of things. Or Felix is." She blinked slowly and reached up to push his hair off his forehead. "I'm sure about you."

His eyes brightened. "Emma...?" He wanted very much to continue this line of conversation, but Henry showed up just then.

"Mom? Did you get what you needed?"

"Yep. Weasley's came through." She smiled up at Henry.

He sat down next to her opposite from Killian. "Neville told me this morning that someone freed a boggart that was locked in Professor Gold's supply room."

Killian made a face. "Aye. We did."

"There's a spell to get rid of them, you know," Emma said affably. "I just couldn't remember it. Expecto-something-or-other."

Henry shook his head. "No, that's how you conjur a patronus. _Expecto Patronum_."

"What's a patronus?" Killian asked.

"That's right!" Emma said gaily. "A patronus. You think about a memory that makes you incredibly happy, and it turns into an animal that comes out and chases off dementors." She leaned in toward Killian, trying to look serious. "They're dark and scabby and really, really creepy."

"They try to eat your soul," Henry added.

Killian made a face. "Well, that sounds bloody awful."

Emma patted his arm. "It is."

"But you guys hit a boggart," Henry said. "You have to use the right countercharm. You have to say "Riddikulus."

Emma smacked a hand to her forehead in a very sloppy fashion. "Ah! That's right! I knew you had to laugh at it."

"It wasn't a terribly amusing moment, as I recall," Killian said, rubbing his ear uncomfortably.

"Well, everything's fine now," Emma said, perfectly bubbly and happy.

"I was just on my way to breakfast," Henry said, getting up. "Do you guys want to come along?"

Emma shook her head. "No, I want to sit right here, in front of the fire."

"But the fire's nearly out," said Henry.

Emma smiled. "That's okay. I can fix that." She drew her wand and Killian pulled it out of her grasp.

"Careful, love," he warned. "You're a bit over-exuberant when it comes to flames."

"I can handle it," Henry said, drawing his own wand. He pointed it at the fireplace and said softly, "Incendio!" The fire grew to a crackling blaze.

"That's the word," Emma exclaimed. "I've been trying to remember."

Henry tucked his wand away. "Well, I'm going to go get some breakfast. I'll catch up with you guys later."

"Bye Henry!" Emma called out cheerfully as he walked away. "See you later!"

"Wait - don't we need to talk to him?" Killian asked.

"We just did." Emma smiled up at him.

Killian shook his head, handing back her wand. "Apologies, love, but I don't need to revisit the burning room. I'd like to keep my eyebrows if it's all the same to you."

Emma looked up at him curiously. "And you're not the only one who's been in that room."

Killian shrugged. "Your father wanted to go in my stead, reasoning that he had been there before and could easily get back, but I wouldn't have it."

She smiled. "Of course you wouldn't. And that's fine. That works out really, really well."

Emma stood up, and grabbed a handful of floo powder. Killian put his hand on her arm.

"Swan - what are you doing?"

"Talking to my father. Or my mother. Maybe both. I'll tell them we're ready, and I'll tell them to keep Henry sleeping until we're all done."

"You can't just step through the fire into the burning room. You have no idea if that will work." Killian pointed out.

"Yes it will. It's a magical room. It'll be connected to the floo network in this reality." She gave a delicate shrug, then knelt down. "Don't worry," she said, smiling over her shoulder. "I'm only putting my head through."

"What?" He looked at her liked she'd completely lost her mind, but Emma just continued smiling that vacant, half-loopy smile until he backed up. She tossed in the floo powder, pushed her hair back, and put her face into the flames.

###

David sat straight up in bed with a gasp, clutching at his chest, his face bathed in perspiration. Snow rolled over next to him, reaching out to turn on the bedside lamp.

"David? What is it?" she reached out, touching his face. "You're soaked with sweat," she said, giving him an understanding look. "Were you in the burning room again?"

David sucked in a few deep breaths, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Yeah," he panted. "I was. And so was Emma."

"What?" She sat straight up in bed. "David, that's impossible!"

"No, no it's not. She found a way. Henry's dreaming and he's in a world of magic that's different from ours. People can talk through fire there. I was in the room, and her head just suddenly appeared. It was crazy - right in the middle of the flaming curtains."

Snow's eyes were wide. "She found a way to talk to you from Henry's dream into yours?"

"Yeah," David gave her a shaky smile. "She did." He swallowed, shaking his head again to clear it. "She and Hook found a potion there that can send Morpheus into a place of dreamless sleep."

"Just like the amulet!"

"That's right. We have to keep Henry asleep until we get her out and Hook gets Morpheus to drink that potion."

"And how is he going to manage that?" Snow asked warily.

David shook his head. "I don't know, but Emma seemed awfully sure of him. She says we need to get Morpheus there and the rest is taken care of."

Snow looked skeptical. "Something tells me it's not going to be that easy."

"Maybe not," David said, reaching for his clothes. "But it's the only chance we're going to get."

###

Emma pulled her head back in from the fire, dusting a stray bit of ash off the collar of her robes. She took Killian's hand and he helped her to her feet.

"Well?" he asked. "Did it work?"

"Uh-huh." She smiled at him vacantly. "No problem. He's going to keep Henry under until Morpheus is taken care of."

"And what about their end of the deal?"

"Under control." Emma spread her hands out. "Nothing for us to do but...go for a walk."

Killian raised a brow. "A walk."

"That's right. We should go for a walk." She looped her arm through Killian's leading him to the door. "But first, you need to chat with Myrtle."

"Who's Myrtle?"

"She's a ghost. She's a bit of a flirt."

"And you want me to flirt back, I take it."

"Yes. And you should do that eye thing when you talk to her."

He raised his brows. "Eye thing?"

"You know, give her a sultry look from under those ridiculous lashes. Make it smoulder."

"Oh, I can smoulder."

"Yes, you can," she agreed, pulling him along.

"And then what?" Killian asked.

She stopped at the doorway and gave him a grin and a shrug. "We wait."

###

"Okay," David said, looking over at Regina and Gold. "Are we clear on what we're doing, here?"

Regina dusted her hands together. "I'm ready when you are."

"And Henry's going to stay asleep?" David asked.

"He'll sustain a deep level of dream sleep," Gold reassured. "But he'll waken naturally by daylight. I don't dare put him under a stronger enchantment - it could have dire repercussions on his dreams."

"Let's hope that gives Hook the time he needs to do what has to be done," Regina said.

"Were you followed?" Gold asked.

Regina shrugged. "I don't know. I parked a block away and came in around back. I even covered up the cat cage so no one would see it."

"I think we're safe in assuming he could be on his way," David said.

"Which means we've no time to lose," Gold interjected. "We need to get Miss Swan out of the sphere quickly. Once we trigger it, Morpheus will definitely be alerted. He could be here in moments."

Regina nodded. "Let's do this." She looked over at David. "Dim the lights."

David flipped a couple of switches, and the lights went out, leaving only the dim illumination of the Emergency Exit signs casting a glow. Regina slowly passed her hand from left to right, across the room. Nothing happened, so she turned, doing it again.

"Maybe we should split up," David suggested. "Gold can do the back area where the pets are kept and you can keep going out here."

Regina made another pass with her hand, and stopped mid-motion. "No need," she said. "We've got something." She tilted her chin over toward the wall on the far side of the lobby, where one of the wall sconces was suddenly glowing with an unearthly light.

Gold walked over, digging a pair of leather riding gloves out of his pocket and sliding them onto his hands. He looked at the sconce carefully, reaching out and running his gloved fingers over the circular wooden knob at the bottom of the ornate lamp. He gave it a twist, dislodging it from the wall. He unscrewed the light socket, and the whole thing came apart in his hand, the orb rolling away from the rest of the fixture.

"Now then," he said quietly as he passed his hand over the orb. "Let's get Miss Swan out of there, shall we?"

###

"So where are we going, exactly?" Killian asked, as they strolled leisurely across the grounds.

Emma smiled. "For a walk."

"Yes, we've established that." A smile tugged at his lips. She was bloody adorable like this. "Did you have a particular destination in mind?"

"Around."

"Ah. Around." He gestured off toward one side of the courtyard. "We could sit under that tree over there. It casts quite a bit of shade."

"Not a good idea to sit under a Whomping Willow," she said. "We'll just keep walking."

"For how long?"

"Until it's time." She leaned her head on his shoulder, and they continued walking toward the Black Lake, where they stood at the shoreline. Emma pointed a hand out across it.

"In one of the movies, a pirate ship brought kids from another school for a tournament, and it popped up right out of the middle of the lake."

"You don't say."

She nodded. "There are even mermaids in there, but they don't look like our mermaids." She laughed. "I guess you could call them the ugly side of the family tree."

"Careful love, they'll hear you."

She smiled up at him. "Better them than the giant squid."

"This place grows more enticing by the moment," he quipped. Emma moved in closer, wrapping her arms around him and laying her face against his shoulder. She nuzzled his neck with her nose.

"Are you cold?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her.

"No. Just done."

He pulled back a little so he could look at her. "Done?"

"Mmm-hmm," she answered, smiling up at him. "It's time."

Killian's eyes widened. "Now? Are you saying the time is now?"

She considered that a moment. "Yes. It's definitely now. And you need to talk to Neville."

"I do?"

"Yes. He's the one you need to talk to." She got up on her tiptoes, and kissed him lightly. "Goodbye, Killian."

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in. "Emma..." he wasn't entirely sure what to say, he only knew that he wanted her to hear it. Even if it only remained a dream to her.

"Emma, I - "

He let out a breath, and she was gone.


	38. The Battle

Killian took a deep breath, dropping his hands. Emma was gone.

The relief nearly made him weak at the knees. They'd done it. They'd gotten her out. She was safe, and back in reality again. His face broke into a smile and his eyes smarted from a sheen of unwanted moisture. He was alone here.

He was alone, and he had work to do.

He shook his head as if to clear it, realizing that he may only have minutes.

Or hours. Or weeks. Who the hell knew, in this bloody place? Whatever it ended up being, he had to set plans into motion. He wasn't entirely sure where Neville fit into the plan that was forming in his head, but Emma - and Felix - had been sure that he did.

He turned back toward the castle, and took off at a run, going over his options in his mind. Emma had been sure he was going to work this out. Now it was time to prove her right. This was all about strategy, and he was ever a man who prided himself on being one step ahead of his opponent. He'd get this done.

But first, he needed to find Neville and see where that lead him.

And then he needed to find Henry.

###

David jumped back as Emma suddenly appeared in the center of the room. She took a hesitant, staggering step, clearly reeling from the abrupt transfer, and David stepped forward, enclosing her in his arms.

"Emma!"

She looked up at him in confusion. "David?" She glanced around. "I'm here? I mean - am I back? Really back?" Her eyes darted around the room and she clung to his arms.

David gave a laugh, hugging her tight. "Yeah, you're back all right. We found the Morpheus sphere and Gold managed to pull you out."

"As much as I love a happy reunion," Gold interjected, "We need to get out of here. Morpheus has by now detected the use of the sphere and is surely on his way."

David pulled Emma toward the door. "He's right. We need to get going."

Emma glanced back over her shoulder at Regina, who was still standing in the lobby. "Regina? You coming?"

"No." Regina sat down on a couch in the waiting room, carefully straightening her skirt.

"No?" Emma said, looking up at David in confusion.

"Part of the plan," he explained. "Now come on - we've got to get out of here!"

###

The Fat Lady was kind enough to let Killian know that Neville could be found teaching an Herbology class and was about to give him directions when Myrtle appeared, volunteering to escort him personally. This led to catfight between the two women that was legendary in its proportions, bringing students and teachers alike running to the staircase.

The crowd parted as Professor McGonagle stepped forward, glaring over her spectacles.

"Don't all of you have classes to attend?" she asked severely, disbursing the crowd, before turning her attention to the Fat Lady and Myrtle. "What, may I ask, is going on here? The two of you have created an enormous spectacle! You sound like a pack of wolves!"

She turned to look at Killian. "Aren't you a bit old to be hanging about?" she inquired.

"Alumni," he explained. "I'm assisting the Auror's office in an investigation."

McGonagle looked startled. "What sort of an investigation?"

"I'm not at liberty to say," he lied smoothly. "But I do need to ask Professor Longbottom a few questions - just a formality, you understand. The school is exemplary in every way and I find no need to pursue this any further after that." He gave McGonagle his most charming smile.

"Well," she sniffed, slightly mollified. "I should think not." She pointed off toward a nearby set of doors. "The greenhouse can be found down that corridor. You'll find Professor Longbottom within."

Killian thanked her, taking off at a run. There was no time to lose.

###

"You can come out," Regina said to a patch of shadows in the corner. "It's quite all right. I'd like to talk to you."

The shadows shifted, swirled, then solidified. Morpheus stepped into the light, but he wasn't quite fully-formed. He shimmered on the edges, fading and strengthening as he stood there, staring at Regina with a wary sort of fascination.

"You want to...talk?"

"Yes," Regina said, patting the couch next to her. "Have a seat."

"I'll remain here," he said, clearly not trusting this abrupt turn-around. He looked over his shoulder at the doorway.

"We're quite alone, I assure you," Regina said.

Morpheus looked at her through narrowed eyes. "You activated the sphere," he accused.

"So I did. I needed to retrieve Miss Swan."

He tilted his head. "Why? What is she to you?"

Regina raised a brow. "To me? Nothing. But to my son - she's his second mother. A mother that he'll be needing, if you and I can strike a deal."

She had his full attention now. Morpheus couldn't help the excitement that leaped in his eyes.

"A deal?"

"Yes. I find myself in a bit of an uncomfortable situation here in Storybrooke," Regina explained. "The man I loved has recently had his wife returned to him, and I've also been replaced as mayor of the town. In short, other than Henry - who spends most of his time with Miss Swan and family - there is no one and nothing for me here."

She looked up at him, and Morpheus clearly saw the truth in her eyes. He moved carefully over to the couch and sat next to her, placing his hand over hers.

"And you want to escape," he surmised. "I can help you."

"I know you can. I also know that you know how to manipulate the dreamscape. Am I right?"

Morpheus nodded excitedly. "Yes! Yes I do. You can be anything, anywhere, whatever you want! I can help you. I can take you anywhere you want to go."

Regina folded her hands in her lap. "There have to be parameters."

He nodded again, head bobbing wildly. "Of course." His eyes were devouring her. She forced a polite smile and went on. "I'd have to be able to see Henry whenever I want."

"Whenever he _dreams_," Morpheus corrected. "And that can be arranged."

She looked at him distrustfully. "Are you sure? I won't go if that's not an iron-clad guarantee."

He held his hands up in a placating motion. "I give you my word it can be done."

Regina took in a breath, squaring her shoulders. "Then take me to him now. He's sleeping. Show me you can take us into his dreams, and we'll go from there. If not, I want your word that you'll bring me right back out again."

Morpheus smiled a calculated smile. "Of course."

"Swear it upon the force of your magic," she asked shrewdly.

His jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed, but he gave her a curt nod. "Done."

Regina stood. "Very well, then." She gestured over to the sphere, laying on the table next to the couch. "Shall we?"

He got to his feet quickly, moving over to stand next to her. "We need to touch the sphere at precisely the same time," he said. "Try to keep your thoughts blank and leave it up to me to direct us."

Regina nodded. "Let's do it. On three?"

Morpheus nodded back, and she commenced the countdown.

"One...two...three!"

They both reached out, placing their fingers on the sphere, but only Morpheus vanished. Regina stepped back.

"Gold!"

"I'm here," he said, stepping through the door from the back room. "We'd best move quickly."

They both extended their hands, concentrating, and a blue-ish glow extended from their fingertips, shooting out at the sphere, encompassing it until it began to glow orange-red. A moment later, it imploded with a force that sent them both staggering into the wall.

When they regained their equilibrium, Regina stepped forward to look at the shriveled fragment that was left.

"I'd say that's done it," she said.

"Indeed," Gold agreed.

"Guess I can remove the protection spell now," she remarked, passing one hand over the other. It glowed for a moment, then settled back to normal.

"He really was a lot more gullible than I'd have thought," Gold remarked.

Regina smirked. "Men usually are when they hear what they want to hear. You know that."

Gold smiled. "I've struck many a fine deal telling people what they want to hear."

She gave him a look. "I'll bet you have." She stared down at the shattered remains of the sphere. "The rest is up to Hook now."

###

Killian stepped out onto the Quidditch pitch with Henry casting a glance around at the empty stands.

"See? All alone," Henry said. "Nobody's even booked it for practice."

"Good." Killian put his hand up to shade his eyes, looking around once more.

"Are you sure you don't want my help?"

"I want you safe, as does your mother. And you'll be helping out by remembering what I told you."

Henry nodded. "I've got it. Good luck with whatever it is you're doing."

"You'll know all about it once it's done, I promise," Killian reassured. "But now I need you to not be a distraction. He'll be fixated on you, but I need you out of sight and once he arrives, I want you gone."

"Killian." Henry's voice was hushed. "Up there - in the commenter's box."

Killian stepped in front of him, blocking him from view as he stared up at Morpheus, who was looking around wildly. "Get under the stands, Henry. Now!"

Henry scurried out of sight and Killian ran for his broom, pushing off the ground and managing to fly right up to the front of the commenter's box and pull to a hanging stop.

"Well, look who's trapped in a dream," Killian taunted. "How does it feel? You didn't really think you'd be able to best me, did you?"

Morpheus curled his hands into fists, and he was beginning to shake with rage. "What have you done!"

"They did what I told them to do - they got Emma out and they trapped you in here," Killian explained. "Let me guess - without the sphere, you can't navigate out of here, can you? You'll be at the whim of wherever the dreamscape sends you."

"And you'll be trapped with me," snarled Morpheus. "Something you'll be regretting for the rest of eternity!"

Morpheus lifted his arms, raising a giant wall of fire and sending it straight at Killian, who wheeled his broom around and flew swiftly out of its path. He glanced back over his shoulder and bit back a triumphant smile when he saw Morpheus pursuing on a broom of his own. Killian dipped down, flying through the support structures on the stands, then twisting out in a barrel roll and zooming out toward the lake. He felt the explosions as curses hit the air around him, and he nearly lost his grip when a sectum sempra curse split his shoulder open, leaving him trailing blood behind him.

He threw a redacto curse over his shoulder, nearly catching Morpheus and causing him to go off balance. Morpheus spun out of control for a moment, then began to fall down toward the lake. The water churned beneath him as the giant squid began to surface, it's tentacles whipping the water, as if sensing its prey. Morpheus managed to pull out of the spiral at the last moment, leveling a blast at the squid with his wand that sent it shrieking back to the depths of the lake.

Killian made the most of his inattention, turning his broom around and heading back toward the castle grounds, keeping low and making a sharp turn around the parapets, weaving right to left and up and down to avoid the curses breaking all around him. He was getting closer, and he slowed almost imperceptibly, letting Morpheus close the gap before he shot forward, right under the branches of the tree.

The Whomping Willow reacted immediately, its branches and leaves slapping and rustling as it struck out, knocking Morpheus from his broom. Killian circled back, letting out a loud bark of laughter before a branch caught him squarely in the back, knocking him to the ground as well.

He scrambled to his feet, running hard in a zig-zag to avoid the branches slapping down around him, heading straight for the castle doors. He ran through, feeling a curse rebound off the wall next to him, sending shards of stone everywhere, cutting his face - and still he ran. Killian made it into the great hall and turned in panic just as Morpheus ran through the door. His eyes narrowed and he skidded to a halt when he saw Killian.

"Enough!" Morpheus shouted, waving his wand in a series of intricate designs. Suddenly, the air got markedly colder, frosting the tall windows and misting Killian's breath. His eyes grew wide as he saw them floating in through the door, their scabby hands reaching for him, their pull on him freezing him where he stood. He needed to think of something happy, she'd said. He forced his mind to work in the face of his overpowering fear and dread. His happiest memory...

A minivan. A house in the suburbs. A sign shop in Portland. A beach, with their children. Dinner with Emma and Liam. That night in Agrabah...he had lifetimes of memories and so many of them happy. He pooled them all together, feeling them warm him inside with a force that chased the darkness away, and his hand lifted, pointing the wand as he shouted "Expecto Patronum!"

A swan burst from the end of his wand, silver and fluid and beautiful beyond words, gliding in circles as the dementors scattered, shooting out the door. He only had a moment to savor it, however.

"There's only one door in or out," Morpheus crowed. "You have nowhere to run now!" He threw an incendio charm that lit the podium on the raised platform into flames, and Killian dived beneath a nearby table. He took a breath, and then shouted:

"Myrtle!"

She flew in on the instant, straight at Morpheus, sending his arms flailing as she passed through him.

"Leave him alone!" she shrieked.

"Stay out of this!" Morpheus snapped, waving his wand in an effort to dispel her. Something he did sent her backwards, end-over-end and when she recovered, she put her hands into fists and screamed "_Peeeeeves!_" at the top of her lungs.

Morpheus whirled to take on the new threat, but he was assaulted from above by a handful of snargaluff pods, writhing and twisting all over his head and face. He slapped at them, howling as Myrtle's tinkling laughter rang out and Peeves hovered above him making rude noises. Killian had almost made it to the door when Morpheus disentangled himself, sending out out a blast from his wand that caught Killian in the back and lit up the room with a brilliant flash of light and a deafening crack.

When the spots cleared from Morpheus's eyes, there was nothing left of Killian Jones but a pile of smoldering robes.


	39. Both

Emma was silent as they rode home from the animal shelter, and David wasn't entirely sure how to even begin to ask her about what she'd been through. The awkwardness seemed to take up the entire cab of the truck. David finally settled for simple. He reached across, squeezing her hand.

"It's so good to have you back, Emma."

She nodded, and was spared from having to say anything by the ringing of David's cellphone.

"It's Regina," he said with a smile. "Guess that means we got him."

A short conversation confirmed it, and David pocketed the phone again. "That's one down. The rest we'll just have to wait and see about." He glanced over at Emma. "So he has a solid plan for when Morpheus gets there?"

Emma's forehead creased. "No. No, not really."

"What?"

"I mean, I was sure that he was going to work it out - or Felix was."

"Felix? Who's Felix?" David was clearly confused.

"I took a magic potion called Felix Felicis, one that brings you luck. It helped me work out how we could get a message to you. I don't remember every detail now that I'm out of there, but I was very, very sure that he had all the components he needed to figure it all out."

"But you didn't actually plan it all?" David asked, warily.

"I didn't feel like we needed to." She looked out the window. "Not then, anyway."

"And now?"

Emma let out a deep, shaky breath. "Now, I'm not so sure. I may have just trapped him in there with that nutcase."

David brought his hand back over to cover hers again. "He found you, Emma. Against all odds, he managed to do it. Both of you reasoned and maneuvered and magicked your way through all of this."

"I know, but - "

"Hook's got good instincts," David said. "But yours are even better. If you were sure he could do this, then I have not one doubt that he can."

###

Myrtle saw Killian fall and let out a howl, heading right through the wall with a singing Peeves right behind her.

Morpheus walked over to the pile of smouldering robes, carefully poking at them with his wand to be sure they were as they appeared. A glance around the room showed no sign of Killian anywhere. He had been incinerated where he stood.

"Well done, mate," Neville said, entering through the main doors. He walked toward Morpheus, extending a hand. "You must be the new Defense Against The Dark Arts Teacher. I'm Professor Longbottom - Herbology," he added, almost apologetically.

Morpheus looked down at Neville's hand, but didn't take it.

Neville walked over to the pile of robes, nudging them with his toe. He looked up at Morpheus with wary admiration.

"He claimed to be from the Auror's office," Neville said, "But when I sent an owl to check out his story, they'd never heard of him."

Morpheus tucked his wand away in his robes. "Yes, well...he was a renegade and I've taken care of the problem." He glanced around at the room. "I take it magic is easily accessed here?"

Neville gave him an odd look. "For some of us, it's a little harder than others," he said. "But if you're the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, you've arrived a bit early. Professor Mills is still packing up."

A slight widening of his eyes gave Morpheus away. "Professor Mills?" he asked. "_Regina_ Mills?"

"Oh, so you've met her," Neville said with a smile. "She's moving on to become the new Minister of Magic now that Kingsley Shacklebolt has retired. Professor Mills will become Minister Mills starting Monday next."

"But she's here now?" Morpheus clarified. "At the castle?"

"Last I saw, she was packing trunks and recycling a few old cauldrons. You should be able to find her in her office."

Morpheus smiled slowly.

"Can you take me there?"

###

"Emma!" Snow's arms engulfed her the moment they stepped through the door, and she found herself rocking side-to-side as Snow held her tightly.

"Are you okay?" Snow pulled back to look at her.

"Define 'okay,'" Emma replied uncomfortably. She moved away into the living room, sinking down onto the couch. Snow gave David a worried glance, then followed her in.

"Are you hungry?" she asked. "Thirsty?"

Emma shook her head, curling her legs up until her knees were under her chin and she was hugging them. Snow sat down on one side of her, and David moved to sit on the other side.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Snow asked quietly.

Emma started to shake her head no, then turned to look at her mother.

"I - I don't know where to begin," she answered helplessly. "How long was I...?"

"In the sphere?' David asked. Emma nodded.

"A little less than two weeks," Snow replied.

"Two weeks?" Emma said it in pure disbelief.

"Gold said time would move differently in there," David remarked. "Did it seem like longer?"

Emma nodded numbly. "It was...years. Literally. I can't even count how many. Or how many times I died."

Snows eyes widened in horror. "You had to face your own death...over and over?"

"Not just mine," Emma replied softly.

Snow's eyes filled with tears but she blinked them back. "I can't even imagine."

David's arm went around Emma, pulling her in to rest her head on his shoulder. "It must have been hell."

Emma closed her eyes, weary beyond all belief suddenly. "It was," she said. "And it was also beautiful. And fun. And amazing." She sighed and a soft, secret smile pulled at her lips. "It was lifetimes. We lived lifetimes."

Snow looked at her with consideration, not having missed that carefully placed "we." She reached over, holding Emma's hand.

"He's going to be okay, you know."

David looked over at his wife. "That's what I told her."

Emma rolled her head against David's shoulder. "It's just...now that I'm back in reality - so much of it...it seems like a dream but it was so real when I was living it. Like it was true then but I'm not so sure it's all true now." She started to go on, but the words caught in her throat.

"Maybe it's both," Snow said. "Maybe it's like Storybrooke. You didn't believe any of this was true at first, but that doesn't mean it wasn't."

"I just spent _decades_ in a fantasyland," Emma replied. "I don't even know what's real and what's not right now."

"What your mother is trying to say is, maybe you need to let yourself believe," David added. "You were in some crazy situations, but the experiences you gained living through them really happened to you. All the bad, and all the good, too. It's part of who you are now."

Emma looked up at him. "And just who am I? Dream Emma? Or Reality Emma?"

David smiled. "You're both. And you're stronger for it."

Emma let out a whoosh of air, sinking backwards into the couch. "I just wish that I knew what he was doing."

"Henry's still asleep," Snow said. "Gold told us he won't wake until sunrise."

"Will that be enough time?" Emma asked in alarm.

David shrugged. "You've lived lifetimes in weeks. For all we know, Hook could be kicked back on an island somewhere, enjoying a quiet retirement by now."

"I want to see him," Emma said quietly.

"You look like you need some rest," Snow pointed out. "We can't do anything until Henry wakes up, anyway."

Emma turned her head to look at her father. "Where is he?"

David bit his lip. "He's in the back room, at Gold's."

Emma's eyes went wide. "Is that wise?"

"Gold helped us get you out," David said. "We moved him there because we thought someone was after him at Regina's. We didn't realize until later that she was the target."

Emma pushed herself off the couch, then walked over to get her keys off the kitchen table. She opened the door and looked back at her parents.

"Let me know when Henry wakes up."

###

Regina looked up from the piece of parchment she'd been writing on and stared at the man standing in the doorway.

"Yes? Can I help you?"

"Professor Mills," Morpheus said, walking slowly into the room. "I'm your replacement."

She raised her brows. "You? You're the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?"

He smiled. "That's correct."

Regina looked back down at he parchment, dipped her quill in the inkpot and resumed writing. "You're early," she said, without looking up. "I have a few more things to pack. You'll have to come back tomorrow."

"I was hoping we could spend some time discussing the transition," he said smoothly. "Perhaps we can discuss it over dinner - "

"Not necessary," Regina said, still not bothering to look up. "I'm leaving extensive notes. Anything else you need to know you can find out from Professor McGonagle."

"But Professor Mills - "

She finally looked up. "The door is that way. Feel free to use it while I finish up here." She gave him a cool smile, then deliberately turned her back, sorting through a stack of books on the table behind her.

Morpheus gave her an angry look, then he turned abruptly and walked through the door. He nearly slammed into Neville who had been leaning on the wall next to the doorframe.

"Shut you down, did she?" he asked with a lopsided smile. "That's always the way of it with her. Professor Slughorn was half-mad with love for her himself while he was here." Neville fell into step beside Morpheus as he strode angrily down the hallway. "I've always said it would take a full bottle of liquid luck to get Professor Mills to notice you."

Morpheus stopped dead in his tracks and looked at Neville.

"What did you say?" he asked.

###

Emma walked into the shop, letting the door slam behind her. Mr. Gold stepped out of the back room to greet her.

"That was locked, you know."

"I know." She pushed past him.

"Am I to assume you're here to stand watch? To make sure no harm befalls our captain?"

"Something like that," she said, staring him down.

"You can rest easy Miss Swan. He's been perfectly safe under my care. You may see for yourself."

"I plan to," she said.

"Then you won't mind if I close up? It's been a long night." He gave her a cool smile. "Though not nearly as long as yours, I'd wager."

Emma gave him a look. "You have_ no_ idea," she deadpanned.

"Then I'll wish you a pleasant evening," he said, walking to the door. "Welcome back, Miss Swan.," he gave her a short bow before closing the door behind him. Emma took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and walked into the back room.

The sight of him laying there, unmoving and still so impossibly handsome, did strange things to her insides. She pulled up a chair next to the couch he lay on, reaching out to push her fingers through his hair and trail them over the face she knew nearly as well as her own.

"I'm here," she whispered. "I know you can hear me somehow...maybe feel me somehow..." her voice broke, and she put her head down on his chest, wishing she could feel his heartbeat, strong and true beneath her cheek, or the steady cadence of his breathing, lulling her as it always did. "I'm here," she said again, as her tears soaked into his shirt.

###

"And how is it you come to possess such a potion?" Morpheus asked suspiciously.

Neville rolled his eyes. "Do you have any idea of what they pay an Herbology teacher? It's not much." He opened the locked cabinet behind his desk. "I have most of the necessary ingredients here in the greenhouse," he explained. "Murtlap and Rue and such. And a bottle of Felix Felicis fetches twelve galleons on the open market. More, if you look the other way before a Quidditch match," he said, waggling his eyebrows. He turned back to the cabinet, pushing bottles around until he found the one he was looking for.

"This is it," he said. "This entire bottle will bring you one perfect day in which all your endeavors will succeed."

"And what happens when it wears off?" Morpheus asked.

"You lose the luck," Neville explained. "But whatever you set in motion or made progress on," he elbowed Morpheus, waggling his brows again, "Will already have been accomplished. It all moves forward from there." He held the bottle up, examining its contents in the light. "Besides, you can always try again, if you need to. I can brew up another batch, should you need more."

"How much?" Morpheus started to reach for the bottle.

Neville pulled it back. "Fifteen galleons."

Morpheus scowled. "You said it sells for twelve!"

"You're using it against a fellow professor," Neville pointed out. "You're buying my silence."

Morpheus eyed him shrewdly. "And you are also dependent on mine. I'm sure those in charge would like to know all about your thriving business."

Neville gave him an unfriendly look. "Thirteen galleons."

"Sold." Morpheus reached into his robes, producing a handful of coins. He laid them on the desk and Neville pushed the bottle at him before scooping them all up. He watched carefully as Morpheus unstoppered the bottle.

"You're not going to drink that here, are you?" he asked. "What if somebody sees you?"

Morpheus gave him a tight smile. "There's no time like the present." He toasted Neville with the bottle. "To your good health," he said, and then he tipped the bottle to his lips and drank.

The bottle crashed to the floor, shattering, as Morpheus doubled over. His hand came up as if he were reaching out to grab at Neville, who was smart enough to step back. A heartbeat later, Morpheus shimmered, then seemed to be sucked in by an unknown force, imploding into nothingness, and leaving no trace of himself behind.

A rustle and flapping sound caught Neville's attention, and he held up his hand, watching at the raven took flight from the rafters and settled itself on his wrist. The bird eyed him with clear intelligence shining out of its startling blue eyes. It lifted one shortened wing, and Neville could see the open wound on its underside.

"That rots, mate," Neville said sympathetically. "Let's get you sorted out." He set the bird carefully down on his desk, then drew his wand and gave it a flick. The bird craned its neck and stretched its wings until it grew and lengthened into the form of a man.

"The blighter caught me with a curse," Killian complained, looking at his bleeding shoulder. "Some sort of dark magic - the bloody thing won't heal up."

Neville gave it a once-over. "Sectum Sempra, most likely. Let's get you to Madame Pomfrey. She'll have some dittany." He pulled out his handkerchief, binding it around Killian's shoulder as best he could before leading him out the door toward the hospital wing.

"You were right," Neville said. "The ruddy idiot fell for it."

"I had a feeling he would," Killian replied. "Once he knew Regina was here, he thought he could make the best of what he had to work with."

They stepped out into the courtyard, carefully skirting around the whomping willow.

"I thought sure he had you there," Neville said. "When you got smacked by the willow."

"That wasn't in the plan," Killian grinned, "But it all worked out. He had to feel like he'd fought me and won, otherwise he would have been suspicious. And Professor McGonagle helped remind me of a time when Emma and I changed into wolves - he wasn't able to find us then. I remembered what Emma said about what an animagus can do and I knew he'd never think of it."

"You're bloody brilliant," Neville said, grinning.

"You were quite impressive yourself," Killian replied. "Emma was right - you're a good man to have around. I only wish - " he cut off abruptly at the sight of...headlights?...shining out at him from the nearby woods.

"Oh, look!" Neville said. "It's the Weasley's magical car! It inhabits the forest, but on occasion you'll see it come out for a spin on the grounds."

The sound of an engine revving cut the air, and the vehicle roared out from the cover of the trees. Neville's face screwed up in confusion.

"That's not the car," he said. "That's..."

"A minivan," Killian answered, smiling broadly. He raised his eyes toward the sky.

"Hello, love," he murmured, closing his eyes. "I swear, I can feel you."


	40. Epilogue

_**Well, readers we're almost finished. I'm actually almost as sad as you - of course, I've thought of a dozen more scenarios I should have put them in...can you imagine them on the Titanic? Or living in a house in the Shire? Oh, the possibilities... but this fic has run its course and it's time to wind it up.**_

_**Some of you have asked if I've got something else in the pipeline and the answer is a definite yes. This one has got a seriously complicated plot that I'm still working out the logistics on. It's going to be AU and of course, very Captain Swan. So that's the good news. The bad news is it's going to be a few weeks before you see it - not just because I need to map it out, but I really, REALLY need to publish the last book in my Seeder trilogy and rework my YA novel for submission to a contest. All of that has gone begging while this fic has eaten my brain, so I have to take a break.**_

_**In the meantime, do keep checking the blog on Mondays (SingleMomtism dot com) for my OUAT episode recaps, and I'm more than likely going to be adding some one shots to "Captain's Choice" and "You Had Me At Malfeasance." Keep a weathered eye on the horizon - I promise the new fic will be up by Thanksgiving weekend here in the US.**_

_**And now, back to our conclusion...**_

* * *

><p>Emma raised her head with a start, not realizing she'd dozed off. Strangely, her sleep had been dreamless.<p>

"Maybe I'm all dreamed out," she mumbled, pulling out her phone to check the time. The shop windows showed a wan stream of light filtering through them, falling across Killian's face.

"It's morning," she said quietly, pushing a lock of hair off his forehead.

"Yeah, and I'm awake," Henry said, leaning against the doorway. Emma leaped to her feet.

"Henry!"

"Mom!" He wrapped his arms around her. "I'm so glad you're back."

"I feel like I just saw you yesterday," she smiled. Then she pushed back, her eyes growing wide with realization. "Did he do it, Henry? Is Morpheus gone?"

Henry smiled. "He did it."

Emma pulled him in again, hugging him tight.

"He did it!" she said, relief washing over her.

"Didn't doubt it for a minute," David called from the doorway. He smiled at Emma. "Henry wanted to come over as soon as he woke up."

"I had to," Henry explained. "I've got a message to deliver."

Emma's eyes locked with his. "You do?"

Henry nodded. "Killian wanted me to tell you he's doing okay."

"That's it?"

"And no matter what, he'll see you tonight."

Emma waited a moment, but there was no more. Henry just looked at her and smiled. She turned away, and walked over to the window.

"I think it's time for breakfast," David said, walking over to put an arm around Henry.

"I am kind of hungry," Henry answered.

"You two go on," Emma said quietly, without turning around. "I'll catch up."

David moved to usher Henry to the door. He paused in the doorway.

"Emma - it may have all been a dream, but that doesn't make it any less valid. You still lived it all."

Emma turned to look at him. "I know." David gave her a nod, and she watched them both go, hearing the outer door to the shop slam shut behind them. She walked over to Killian's side, taking his hand again and sitting down next to him.

"Well, it's just you and me," she said. "You're running from bears or sailing on your ship over a waterfall or something, and I'm here with your life in my hands." She glanced around, letting out a huff of air. "No pressure, right?"

She laid his hand back across his chest, brushing his jacket pocket with the side of her hand, and she couldn't help but feel the lump within it. She reached down inside, and pulled out the compass.

"I haven't held this since we came back to Storybrooke," she said. She looked down at him sheepishly. "I always felt guilty about leaving you at the top of the beanstalk," she admitted.

She remembered the look on his face - and the way she couldn't meet his eyes.

"I should have trusted my gut then," she said. "I knew you were more than what I was seeing." She slid her hand over his again, twining their fingers together. "You saw so much of me that I never showed to anyone. You saw it because you knew it all too well yourself. That's why I pushed you away, you know. You...terrified me. You saw too much."

She put her chin down, resting it on the backs of their joined hands. "You're always so right about me. You're always calling me out when I try to run from myself. And now when I need you to be all up in my face, you tell Henry to tell me you'll be waiting? Like, it's not a big deal? Really?"

She pushed up to her feet, gesturing wildly with her hands and pacing with agitation. "This is just like you, you know! Leaving it all up to me because you don't want me to be able to say you pushed me into this, but in the meantime you're just biding your time..." she let out a short, exasperated sound - "Which is exactly what you're doing because you've got an eternity now. You're already a couple of hundred years old. What's a few hundred more, right?"

Emma threw her hands up in the air, striding back over to him, pushing the chair out of the way and sliding down to sit next to his side on the couch. She reached out, gripping his lapels in her hands and giving him a tiny shake. "You listen to me, you infuriating pirate - I'm going to try this. I'm going to try this now even though it probably won't get us anywhere, and then I'm going to go to bed and I'm going to hunt you down and curse you out," she said.

She leaned in closer, her lips just barely above his as she whispered:

"And then I'm going to try again tomorrow. And the day after that. Because I just can't imagine a lifetime without you in it anymore."

She set her lips gently on his, and she kissed him.

The light was blinding, rippling out from him as he opened his eyes and gasped. Recognition folllowed a moment later, and then the full weight of what had happened settled in. He reached up, cupping her face in his hand.

"Took you look enough, love," he said, giving her a lopsided grin. Then he pulled her down, and kissed her long and thoroughly.

###

"So you had Neville trick him into taking the potion?" Emma asked, digging her fork into another helping of Granny's pie. They were all gathered around the largest table, and Henry was eating up every word of Killian's thrilling tale.

"I wish I could have seen that battle," Henry said. "I was talking to Luna Lovegood, if I remember right. She was knitting sweaters to put on the venemous tentacula."

"Yes, they were quite charming," Killian agreed. "I had dinner with Luna one night while I was waiting for Morpheus. She's quite the character."

"Wait a minute," Emma said. "How long was it from the time I disappeared to when he showed up?"

"About three weeks," Killian said. "Enough time to procure another bottle of Felix Felicis, which I drank immediately. I began lessons with Neville and Luna to learn the spells I needed to learn, and Felix also gave me a good feeling as to when I should be expecting Morpheus. The day of his arrival, I handed the empty bottle over to Neville, and that was that."

"You didn't save any for the battle?" David asked.

"Didn't need it. A pirate makes his own luck, mate."

"I can't believe you're an animagus," Henry said. "That is so cool!"

"I got to be a wolf once," Emma said. "And a mermaid."

Killian reached out, taking her hand. "I'm happy to settle for you in your human form, love. And bloody glad we're not running from lava or dodging explosions anymore."

"Lava?" Snow looked alarmed.

"That one actually worked out all right," Emma said. "At least until the tidal wave came," she amended.

"It seems like it _all_ worked out all right," David said. "And I'm glad we're back to normal again."

Emma raised her brows. "In this place? Who knows what that entails."

"We've all got each other," David said. "We'll get through together - whatever it is."

"I think Killian and I can pretty much get through anything now," Emma noted wryly.

Killian turned his head to look at her, bringing her hand up to his mouth. "I like the sound of that, love." She gave him an odd look and he smiled. "Our names. Together. You don't usually do that."

She smiled back. "Yeah, well, this isn't my usual sort of day."

David pushed his way out of the booth and stood abruptly. "I think it's time we got Henry to school," he said. "Don't you think?" He nudged his wife, who was looking dreamily at Killian and Emma - who were too busy looking at each other to notice much.

"C'mon, grandma," Henry said, "This is about to get embarrassing, anyway." He gave his mother a good-natured smile and she flushed, giving a nervous little laugh. Snow looked down at her, smiling ear-to-ear.

"We'll see you later," she said, picking baby Neal's car seat up from the booth and following her husband and grandson out the door to the truck. Emma looked up at Killian, raising her brows.

"Now what?" she asked.

He gave her a slow, smile that lit up his eyes with a devilish gleam.

"Now we go for a walk."

###

It was a perfect, sunny day, almost like the one they shared the day of the picnic, when their whole adventure started. They strolled through the streets of Storybrooke to the docks in an unhurried fashion, not even talking much, just content to be back in reality and where they belonged. When they reached the Jolly, Killian led Emma up the gangplank, helping her step down onto the deck. He shaded his eyes, staring up at the sails.

"I may have to climb the riggings later," he said. "I've a few repairs to make on the sails before she's back to peak condition."

"Killian."

"'Course, the lashings are going to need to be replaced on a few - it looks like the trip through the portal wasn't terribly smooth..."

"Killian." Emma reached out, touching his arm. "You really aren't going to ask me?"

He looked down at her in confusion. "Ask you? Ask you what?"

She gave him a guilty look. "Ask me to tell you what I should have the guts to tell you to your face."

Killian crooked an eyebrow. "Ah. That." He slid his arms around her, pulling her closer. "Well, I expect you'll get around to it."

Emma smiled, sliding her arms around his neck. "Maybe I'm waiting for you."

He gave her a shake of his head, and grinned. "Oh, no, Swan...you're not getting out of it that easily. I'm only too happy to remove that obstacle."

He leaned in, putting his forehead to hers. "I love you, Emma. I've made no secret of it."

She sighed as his lips brushed hers. "I know," she said softly. "I mean, I tried to pretend I didn't know, but I knew."

"And...?"

She closed her eyes. "I'm afraid."

"I know." He kissed her again, softly. "I know, love." He pushed her hair back, tucking it behind her ear. "So tell me when you're ready. I know it's there."

He kissed her again, his lips moving on hers persuasively, his hand shifting over her back and tangling in her hair as they parted, breathed, and dove in again. Emma felt her body straining against his, so familiar, and yet all still so new in the face of what she'd finally admitted to herself, and to him.

"Perhaps we'd better go below," he suggested. "Before this takes its natural course."

"Okay," she said reluctantly, kissing him softly once more before stepping back. He reached down for her hand, tugging her toward the hatch that led down to the cabin and sliding it open. He followed her down, jumping off the last couple of rungs to land beside her.

He pulled off his jacket, then reached into his pocket, pulling out the compass.

"I should put this in a place of honor," he said, glancing around a moment, and then settling for leaving it on the table.

"Now, where were we?" he asked, reaching for her. Emma stepped back.

"I love you, Killian."

His eyes widened, a fire leaping behind them in response. Then his gaze softened. "I don't want you to feel like you had to do that."

"I did," she said. "I'm not leaving you at the top of that beanstalk again."

He gave her a quizzical look. "Beg pardon?"

"I should have gone with my gut. You and I recognized what we had in each other from the start. I was just too afraid to believe it. But I believe now. I love you, Killian."

He took two long strides, pulling her back into him. "You'd better practice some more," he said against her lips.

"I love you. I really lo - "

She wasn't able to finish before his lips were on hers, and his hand and mouth were igniting her, burning them both in an inferno as he pulled her to the bed.

She was more than happy to oblige him, saying it over and over as the pleasure built and swept them both away.

###_Seven Months Later_###

"Well?" Emma asked, looking at Killian expectantly.

He raised a brow. "How long has it been?"

She looked down at her phone. "Two minutes and fifty-eight seconds...fifty-nine...three minutes." She looked up, biting her lip.

Killian looked down at the white stick in his hand.

And then he smiled.


End file.
